


That Howling Infinite

by sweettartine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, American AU, Blow Jobs, College standard drinking, Hand Jobs, Harry's glorious 2015 mermaid hair, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Cheating, Romance, but cheating-adjacent themes, romantic read-alouds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettartine/pseuds/sweettartine
Summary: When Louis struggles in the literature class he needs to pass to graduate, his professor assigns him a tutor. A cute tutor. A cute tutor with a boyfriend. It's just as well. Louis isn't looking for a boyfriend in his last semester of college. But trying not to fall for Harry Styles might be impossible.Or, the one where Louis and Harry fall in love while reading Moby Dick.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 222





	That Howling Infinite

**Author's Note:**

> This story absolutely poured out of me. It's probably been cooking somewhere in my brain for a while now. It was such a joy to write, so I hope you like reading it. 
> 
> As a note, Harry does have a boyfriend who is not Louis in this story, but he doesn't get any major on-screen time. It has a happy ending :) More details are in the end notes if you're worried. 
> 
> Just a Little Bit of Your Heart is the unofficial soundtrack to this story. Also, I hope it's very clear in this story that I really love this book. But I get that that is not the common opinion, so I tried to make it so that you really don't need any knowledge of Moby Dick to enjoy it. And thank you to my beta and most trusted plot-fixer. I love you I love you.
> 
> Here is my [Tumblr post](https://sweettartine.tumblr.com/post/640415768169824256/that-howling-infinite-by-sweettartine-27k-i) if you'd like to reblog it. Thank you! 
> 
> Finally, just to put this in the universe: Harry Styles, I think you would love this book. If you're looking for recommendations <3

“This is not the kind of class that any of you have taken before,” Professor Amy Benjamin said, addressing her eight students enrolled in English 295: Special Topics. “It will be rigorous, it will be discussion based, and by the end of the semester, you will know this book better than any book you’ve ever read before.” 

  
Louis looked at his pristine copy of Moby Dick on the desk in front of him. He’d chosen this class not because he had any interest in reading this book. No. He chose this class because it was the only class that would both A) fulfill his final humanities requirement and B) fit into his schedule with the classes he was finishing up for his business major. Bear Valley College was pretty good at making sure their students graduated in four years, but Louis thought this was maybe a bit of a stretch. 

  
In short, Louis had to read Moby Dick in order to graduate that spring. There was no other choice. When his academic advisor had told him this class was available (and prioritized to him as a graduating senior who needed the credit) he figured it wouldn’t be too bad. He’d skated by in English classes before. He knew how to Google symbolism and theme or whatever. He wasn’t worried.

  
However, he’d never been in a literature discussion class with seven other people. 

  
Professor Benjamin, who barely looked old enough to be a professor, continued outlining the class. What was expected, what class would be like, the final project (which she would decide on when she “got to know the personality of the class,” whatever that meant), and how past sessions of this class had gone. Louis understood, from the fact that his academic advisor had really driven home how lucky he was to get a spot in this course, that it was highly sought after by English students. 

  
Finally, she sat at one of the tables they had arranged into a circle, per her instruction when class started, and opened the discussion. 

  
“For the first class, I just want to start light and easy. You read the first ten chapters for today. What stood out, what did you take notes on, what do you have questions about?”

  
That was “light and easy”?

  
One student opened his mouth and talked about the presence of the church in the early part of the book, and...fuck. Okay, Louis got the email that Professor Benjamin sent out to tell them what was expected of them for the first class period, but Louis hadn’t actually thought it would matter whether or not he read anything. 

  
They went around the room, discussing the beginning chapters of the book. It all seemed disjointed to Louis. Where was the whale? Professor Benjamin turned her attention to him finally, and Louis felt very deer-in-headlights. “What were your first impressions Mr….Tomlinson?” She asked, finding his name on her roster. 

  
“I, um…” Louis said, reaching for anything. He tried to remember anything that the student before him had said. “Also thought that the um, symbolism in the painting in the Inn was interesting.” 

  
“Care to elaborate on that?” She asked. No one else had offered one sentence. Everyone else had had trouble shutting up, in Louis’ opinion. 

  
“I may have further thoughts as I get deeper into the book.” Louis thought he might have a thought after he cracked the cover of the book. 

  
The professor raised her eyebrows at him like she didn’t buy that Louis had done the reading. 

  
As class wrapped up, the professor approached him. She tapped the cover of his book with one forest green fingernail. “You are going to have a much easier time in this class, Mr. Tomlinson, if you open the book, okay? I’ll let it slide today. But I expect your participation.” 

  
“Yes, professor,” Louis agreed. He was a little scared of her. Maybe in a good way. 

  
Special Topics was in an unorthodox classroom on the third floor of the old seminary, from back when their college had had a religious affiliation. Louis rushed down the cramped, polished stone spiral stairs passing classrooms he’d had a number of classes in over his four years at Bear Valley. Each classroom was unique. One had a large stage on it. One was shaped like a literal triangle. One was two-stories, with grand columns and crown molding. Only one of them had no windows. 

  
He pulled the fur-edged hood of his coat up over his head as he pushed his way outside and into the quad. It was an absolutely frigid January day in Wisconsin, cold wind whipping off of Lake Michigan, every inch of the world that Louis could see covered in snow or ice or frost. 

  
He loved it here. 

  
He fished a lighter out of his pocket with his cigarettes and lit one. He had twenty minutes until his next class, and it was across the quad. Actually, basically everything on campus was in a building arranged around the quad. Louis would grab a coffee before his class started, but while he smoked his cigarette, he decided to give this book a read. A try. He might as well. It’s just one book after all. 

  
Since only smokers spent time outside during a Wisconsin winter, the benches in the quad were all free. He grabbed one, held his cigarette between his lips, and pulled his book out of his backpack. “Okay,” he said, flipping pages to find the first one. “Chapter One: Loomings. Call me Ishmael,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay, okay. Damp drizzly November in your soul, okay. Watery part of the world, got it - the ocean. Made that connection all by myself there.” He took another drag of his cigarette, knees bouncing in the cold. “Wait...methodically knocking people’s hats off?” What the fuck was this book. 

  
He snapped it shut, took one last drag of his cigarette, and headed into the student union quick for his coffee. Whatever. 

-

By Thursday, Louis still hadn’t managed to take another look at the book. It made him anxious to think about, so he didn’t, and then suddenly it was time to go to class. Shit. 

  
This time, Professor Benjamin absolutely noticed. At the end of class, he was not surprised she asked him to stay back. 

  
“There’s a waiting list for this class, Louis,” she said, getting right to the point. “If you’re not interested in reading this book, I suggest you drop the class.” 

  
“I need it to graduate. If I don’t take this class, I can’t graduate on time. I want to read the book, I’m just struggling with the language.” Louis was scrambling. “It’s dense, and everything is phrased weird.” 

  
His professor’s face softened. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to hook you up with a tutor - a Junior who took this class last spring. Whip smart and very patient. Work with him. If you can convince me you’re invested in this class by drop deadline, you can stay.” 

  
Louis let out the breath he’d been holding. There was hope. 

-

Louis was late, but he brought sugar to share, so he had already forgiven himself for it. His tutor had told him to meet in the library, in the basement study rooms, which he had actually never been to. He’d had to have a library student worker show him where the stairs to the basement even were. But he found room B2, and knocked gently on the open door, getting the attention of the boy sitting there, waiting for him. 

  
And...wow. He was gorgeous. Fine bone structure, full lips, long wavy brown hair. He was wearing a faded Rolling Stones shirt under an oversized cardigan, and had a copy of Moby Dick in front of him. Maybe tutoring wouldn’t be so bad. 

  
Louis shut the door behind him, and gave his tutor, Harry, a little wave. 

  
“I almost left,” Harry said in greeting. 

  
“I brought you a cookie,” Louis said, as though that fixed everything. The coffee shop in the student union had these giant cookies that he was obsessed with.

“Chocolate chip or M&M?” 

“That’s not going to work on me.” Harry’s face was already pinched in frustration, but his gaze flicked down to the cookies in Louis’ hand, each in its own bakery sleeve. “M&M.” Listen, Louis knew his shortcomings, and he knew how to make up for them. 

Louis handed over the cookie. The study room was nice. It was brightly lit with strong fluorescent lights, and had a round table with four chairs. There was a window back into the library both so people could see there were people using it, and also, Louis thought, probably to keep people from _using_ the study rooms. He sat next to Harry and plopped his copy of Moby Dick down on the table. 

“I talked to Amy, and she said you’re pretty behind,” Harry started, taking a bite of his cookie. He had his own copy of the book in front of him - it was the same edition that Louis had, with a creepy portrait of Captain Ahab on the cover - but Harry’s book looked completely different than his own. Louis’ copy was, for lack of a better word, crisp. The binding perfect, the pages unmarked. It lacked the dog ears, post-its, highlights, flags, and what looked like a newspaper clipping hanging out of Harry’s. There was a strip of hot pink duct tape going up the spine, presumably in effort to have it remain one single volume. Not only did Louis’ book not look like this, Louis had never had a book that looked like this. He couldn’t imagine reading a book in this way - with a pen. Oh, no no. 

“Yeah, I think everyone is just taking to the story better than I am,” Louis said. 

“Okay, yeah, it’s a difficult narrative. The language is pretty different than how we would speak or write today, and he can be pretty flowery, so I get that. How far did you get?” 

“Um..." Louis said, wracking his brain for the last thing he remembered. “Something about knocking people’s hats off?” 

“Oh my god,” Harry said. 

“What?”

“That’s in the first paragraph. Knocking people’s hats off is in the very. First. Paragraph.” 

“And?” 

“Are you even trying to read this?” 

“Okay, okay English major, have some sympathy for the weak here. I don’t even remember the last book I read, okay? This is like...like diving into the ocean without learning how to swim first or something.” It probably also had something to do with some undiagnosed dyslexia that Louis had always tried to pretend wasn’t a problem. 

Harry sighed. “Okay, okay, I get it, you need help. You can...you can read though, right?” 

“Yes I _can read_ thanks much. I am about to graduate from college.” 

“People get through college without it,” Harry said, shrugging. 

“Okay, so what’s going to make it easier to read? Every time I pick up the book, I open it and look at the words, and it’s like they slip away from me.” 

“Any book?” 

“No, just this old timey stuff.” He poked at the cover of his book accusingly. 

“Have you ever read Shakespeare?”

“Do you think I have read Shakespeare?” Louis countered. 

“Fair.” 

“I mean, I sat through Romeo and Juliet in 9th grade English I think.” 

“Okay, so you probably went through the text pretty slow, and your teacher paused to kinda rephrase some of the lines so they sounded more familiar?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. 

“Okay, well, Amy isn’t going to do that for you,” Harry said. “But if you wanted, we could a bit.” 

“That sounds...time consuming.”

“If it helps you get your footing, it’s worth it. I know it looks like a big book, and it’s weird, and dense, and sometimes has chapters just about rope.”

“You are not selling me on this,” Louis said. The best thing about the moment he was in was the cookie he was stuffing in his mouth. He was a senior. He didn’t want to work hard in a class that wasn’t even in his major. 

“But it’s also kind of magnificent,” Harry said. He had a legitimate twinkle in his eye. 

“You really love this,” Louis said, reaching across the table to carefully take Harry’s book. He moved slow enough for Harry to tell him to stop, but he didn’t. Holding Harry’s copy was completely different than holding his own. The edges of the book were soft and rounded at the corners with wear. When he went to flip it open, it remembered a spot, clearly well-worn, clearly the reason there was duct tape holding it together. 

“What’s The Lee Shore?” Louis asked. The page was covered in pen and highlighter. Just holding the book in his hands meant he was crushing some post-it flags. 

“We’ll get there,” Harry said. 

“How many times have you read this?” 

“More than once,” Harry said, smiling. Louis wasn’t sure if that meant twice, or like, ten times. 

“Alright, Styles. Lay it on me.” 

-

Louis had sat in the basement of the library for an hour with Harry, going through the first two chapters of the book excruciatingly slow. Louis had never read that slow in his life. He was usually just looking forward to being done with reading. But Harry read lines out loud sometimes several times, and when he read them out loud, they transformed from a book that felt ancient into something that...well, still felt pretty fucking old. But not impossible. 

When they finally left the library, Harry started heading to the dorms, and Louis to the parking lot. “So just try that with the chapters that you have to read before Tuesday, and I think it’ll help a lot. And I’ll see you next week, same time. We can go over anything you still didn’t understand.” 

Louis thought about the chapters he had ahead of him, how far behind he was. How long it took him and Harry to go through what was like, barely anything. 

“Thanks, man,” Louis said, and waved to Harry as they parted ways. 

The book in Louis’ hand officially had some underlines in it, which was a first for him. He knew it wouldn’t look like Harry’s by the end of the semester, but hopefully, by some miracle, it would get read.   
  
-

On Tuesday morning before class, Louis finally cracked the book again. In his defense, he was doing homework for his other classes. The ones for his major. And Spanish, of course, which he had with his roommate Oli, which made it more bearable. He liked having someone to figure out homework with. 

He sat on his couch in the living room with an aspirational pen in his hand, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He was glad he lived off campus that year. His little college had a strong on-campus culture, but it was cheaper to live off campus, and he got his own bedroom. His book was no less heavy in his hand than the last time he picked it up. But he’d shoved his cafe receipt from the two cookies he’d bought him and Harry in it to mark his spot, and that’s where he opened it to once more. 

“Chapter Three: The Spouter-Inn,” he read. So far so good. He read it out loud like Harry told him to. “Entering that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide, low entry with old-fashioned wainscots reminding one of the bulwarks...wait, what the fuck is this? Bulwakrs, Jesus Christ, Harry would know what that means.” The book snapped shut in his hands, the spine not broken in enough to relax. He had the attention span of a three-year-old. Before he knew it, he had Instagram open and he was scrolling mindlessly. He hadn’t even thought of his phone or of Instagram but there he was regardless. And then, with a little more thought, he went to his search tab and typed in Harry’s name. 

And there he was, first result. How many Harry Styleses were even in the world? Louis clicked on him, and started scrolling through his pictures. Lots of photos of the books he’s read, silly photos with someone who must be his sister, many, many things he’d baked. It was almost wholesome. Louis scrolled back up to the top. He had a ring around his profile photo that meant he had stories up, but Louis didn’t click on them. He didn’t want to show up in the viewed list. 

Harry also had a rainbow flag in his bio. Louis’ eyes stuck on it for a moment. Harry was, unarguably, cute. More than once since their tutoring session Louis had noticed Harry’s curls float idly into his consciousness, often accompanied by that absolute crater of a dimple in his cheek. He gave Harry’s recent photos another quick scroll. It didn’t look like he had an obvious boyfriend. 

And maybe it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t make himself read this book, if it meant he would still need Harry’s help. 

-

Louis was no academic star, but he usually didn’t embarrass himself in class. But that afternoon, he walked out of his lit class feeling like a fucking idiot. He told his professor he was still working with his tutor, and she gave him a judgemental “hmmm,” like she would believe it when she saw it. 

Around him, the other students filed out. Louis’ classmates wanted to be in that class. Some had already read Moby Dick, and just wanted to take this course with Amy. Louis had been reminded again that the class had a wait list. 

Like usual, he stopped at a bench in the quad to smoke before his next class. It was cold out, and he wore those dumb little fingerless gloves so he could smoke and text. He was not ashamed of being kind of a cold baby, but he was also willing to make sacrifices to indulge his dual tobacco and phone addictions. 

Working a lighter with cold little fingers always sucked, but once he got his cigarette lit, he unlocked his phone. He could feel the burn of embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck still. Before he could stop himself, or muster up some shame, he opened his text thread with Harry. The only thing that was in there so far were their plans to meet in the library. Louis knew that he and Harry weren’t exactly friends, but who the fuck else was he going to text about Moby Dick? Not Oli. Not Luke. Louis wasn’t friends with a whole lot of people who read novels. 

_Just embarrassed myself in class. Couldn’t get through my chapters. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I can’t drop this class and still graduate._

He sent his text, feeling pathetic and useless. Stupid. He let his head drop to his hands, elbows balanced on his knees, and took a deep breath. He’d had hard classes before. He just needed to get a passing grade. He didn’t need to get a 4.0 or anything. 

He straightened up, took another drag of his cigarette. On his phone screen, he saw Harry’s typing bubble, three dots blinking. 

_Wanna meet before Thursday’s class?_

Louis took another drag of his cigarette. It hurt his pride to admit defeat, but he’d barely gotten one sentence into his reading before his eyes crossed and his brain shut down. _Just graduate, Tomlinson. You can’t afford another semester of this shit._

Louis tapped out a response. _Please._

-

They met in the cafe in the student union Wednesday night. The study rooms in the library, according to Harry, were taken up by the wrestling team and football team’s mandatory homework sessions. Though when Louis slid into the chair across from Harry, he thought this might not be any better. 

“I think this is a senior show,” Harry said, whispering. The cafe was connected to the school’s student gallery area, and there was a crowd listening to a student explain the mixed media paintings she had up on the walls. “We should probably leave.” 

“Alright, where to?” Louis said. He had just driven back to campus after going home a few hours earlier. The town of Bear Valley, Wisconsin, which was home to Bear Valley College, was tiny, so his apartment wasn’t far. All he had with him now was his book. 

“My roommate has night class tonight. Wanna go to my dorm?” 

Louis nodded and followed Harry out of the student union, through the quad, and up the path to his dorm. Campus was small. There were two dorms. The one the freshman and sophomores lived in, and the much nicer ones for the upperclassmen. Harry scanned his access card for the front door of the nicer of the dorms, where Louis had lived the year before. It was three floors, and Harry led him to the elevator up to the top. 

The dorm wasn’t too different from the one Louis had been in. It was just mirror flipped, the bathroom and bedroom on the opposite side as the unit Louis had lived in. 

“Sorry it’s messy,” Harry said, taking his coat off and hanging it on a hook on the back of the door. The dorm was not messy. He reached for Louis’ coat as well. He was so polite. 

“Thanks,” Louis said, walking deeper into the space. 

“You want tea?” 

“Nah.” 

Harry had art on his walls, not just the posters they sold at the poster sale every year. He had three plants that Louis could see. The blanket on the back of his couch looked crocheted. The blanket on Louis’ couch was A) in a pile, never folded and B) free for signing up for a checking account from the credit union in the next town over. 

Harry also had a huge, packed bookshelf in the living room. “Are these all yours?” 

“Most of them, yeah. My roommate has the bottom shelf.” 

“How generous of you,” Louis joked. There were...too many books here. All of them looked read and loved. They were a little disheveled, like Harry took books on and off of it frequently. “You have like, an entire library here. Have you actually read all of these?” 

Harry blushed a bit. “Most, yeah. This chunk,” he said, pointing to the leftmost section of the top shelf, “is my TBR.” 

“I don’t know your book terms, Library,” Louis said. He loved when nickname inspiration struck. “TBR?” 

“To be read.”

“And this is mine,” Louis said, holding up his copy of Moby Dick. 

“Yeah, let’s sit,” Harry said. There was only the couch and a beanbag chair, which looked out of place, so Louis sat next to Harry on the couch. 

“So what exactly are you struggling with?” Harry asked. 

“I think basically the same thing. When I try to read it myself, it reads like an entire different language. Like, the individual words don’t mean anything when strung together into sentences. When you were reading it last week, it was almost comprehensible.”

“Maybe you just need it to be read out loud to you,” Harry said. “Have you tried audio books before?” 

“I can’t even listen to podcasts. I turn it on, and forty minutes later I couldn’t tell you what the podcast was about at all. It doesn’t absorb that way.” 

“But it helped when I read it,” Harry probed. 

“I was paying attention when you read it. Cause, I dunno. You’re here.” And you’re _very_ cute. 

“Hm,” Harry said, running his fingers through his hair, curls bouncing. Louis wasn’t really looking for a boyfriend in the last semester of college. He was planning on moving to Chicago with Oli after graduation. But...this nerd was adorable. “Do you want to read the next few chapters like that? Me reading aloud?” 

Louis didn’t really want to read the next few chapters at all, if he was being honest. But if he had to, he might as well have it be delivered in the most pleasant way possible. “Yeah,” he said. “Please.” 

Harry smiled at him, like Louis wasn’t being a huge imposition on his time. The barest of smiles on his face made the dimple appear. It didn’t take long for Louis to get addicted to it. 

“So you’re still on chapter three, then?” Harry asked, opening his own book to the right page. Louis nodded and did the same with his. The least he could do was follow along as Harry read. Louis stopped him about as soon as he started. 

“You gotta tell me what the fuck a bulwark is before I can get past this,” Louis said. 

“Oh. It’s like, the ship’s railing, above deck. So you don’t fall off the edge. You’re gonna learn a lot of words for different parts of the ship.”

“Okay. Railing. Cool. Then take it away,” Louis said. 

Harry read, and Louis followed along. Ishmael was just looking for somewhere to spend the night. Louis wasn’t exactly riveted yet. The painting on the wall of the inn maybe was interesting though. He wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure why Ishmael had to share a room at the inn with a stranger. There was only one bed. Sounded fake. 

“Chapter four,” Harry said, after he’d made sure Louis didn’t have any questions about chapter three. “Upon waking next morning about daylight, I found Queequeg’s arm thrown over me in the most loving and affectionate manner-”

“Wait, WHAT?” Louis said. 

“You had almost thought I had been his wife,” Harry said, finishing Ishmael’s thought. 

“Harry...c’mon. How is this real? There’s cuddling in this book?” Louis asked. Someone in class had mentioned the queer themes, but Louis assumed it was subtext. He was bored out of his mind, and now Ishmael was someone’s wife?

“Moby Dick is gay. Why do you think I like it so much?” Harry asked, as though Louis should have seen it from a mile away. And then in an instant, doubt crept onto Harry’s face. “You don’t like, have a problem with that or anything?” 

“A problem with what?” 

“The queer stuff. You know I’m gay, right? That isn’t going to be a problem?” Louis could practically see Harry putting on his armor for this conversation. Could hear just an edge of hardness in his voice. 

Louis just smiled, tilted his head. “Well, that makes two of us, I guess.” He watched the dimple pop back up. 

“Cool. I didn’t know that. I thought I knew all the queer kids on campus.” 

“I’m not really a Gay Straight Alliance kinda guy,” Louis said, shrugging. To be perfectly honest, Louis was proud of himself. But he also just wasn’t the kind of guy who wanted to attract attention to himself for any reason, really. 

“Honestly, that kind of makes this more fun for me,” Harry said. “This book is like, a six hundred page long dick joke, and I’m not sure how much I want to talk about sperm with a straight boy.” That was flirting, right? He was pretty sure Harry was flirting with him. 

“I’m ready for it,” Louis said. Maybe it would be worthwhile after all. “Wait, how much sperm?” 

“Moby Dick is a sperm whale,” Harry said. “That was the purpose of whaling. To collect the spermaceti in the head of the whale for fuel for things like oil lamps. So...yeah, there is a lot of sperm in this book,” Harry said, laughing. He tried to be matter-of-fact about it, but Louis could tell he was a little embarrassed. 

“I will spare you the crude joke I want to make,” Louis said. “But just this once.” 

Harry read him several more chapters. He read until his roommate got back from his night class, and then a little more. Harry’s voice was calm and deep, a syrupy molasses, words thick and tangible. Melville’s words in Harry’s mouth transformed into something he actually wanted to listen to. Louis melted into the couch, turning his pages along with Harry, even though he was paying more attention to the words read aloud to him than the words on the page. 

Finally, Harry yawned. 

“Shit,” Louis said, letting out a sympathetic yawn himself. “I’m taking up your whole night. I’m so sorry.” 

Harry didn’t look bothered. “You’re getting it though, right? Maybe you’re getting your sea legs?” 

“Terrible pun, I will not be forgiving you for that,” Louis said. Harry looked proud of himself. He took his phone out of his pocket, and Louis could see he had a ton of texts. “Shit man, you’re blowing up.” 

“Fuck, it’s my boyfriend. He thought I’d be done by now.” Harry’s brows knit as he tapped out a quick response. 

Boyfriend. Well, Louis wasn’t surprised. Harry was gorgeous, and while he was kind of a nerd, there was something appealing about that. Magnetic enthusiasm. Well, Louis hadn’t been looking for a boyfriend anyway. 

“He’s not upset that you had to do charity work for a business major who can’t read, is he?” 

Harry smiled. “No. Well, maybe. I dunno. We just got back together. I’m trying to be…”

“Good?” Louis supplied. 

Harry looked a little strained for the first time that night. Unsure. “I dunno. Be more of what he wants, or something. I’m sorry, you didn’t come here for my drama. Only Ishmael’s.”

“Well I’ll let you get to the boyfriend. Thanks for reading to me, Library. All hope is not lost.” 

Harry walked him to the door. “Give yourself some credit, alright? You’re not as hopeless as you seem to think you are.”

Louis slipped his coat back on and headed out of a building that was so familiar to him. Louis had never had a tutor before. He wasn’t sure if it was usually like this. It felt so friendly, relaxed. He hoped Harry wasn’t in any actual hot water with his boyfriend. 

Louis wasn’t exactly looking forward to class the next day, and he was still behind on the reading, but maybe Harry was right. Maybe he was getting his sea legs. 

-

“What do you think about a marriage of convenience?” Oli said late Saturday morning, stomach full of the pancakes Louis had made them. Louis wasn’t a chef or anything, but c’mon, they’re pancakes.

“You start liking boys overnight or something?” Louis asked. They were on the couch, feet on the coffee table, YouTube skateboarding videos on the TV. The perfect Saturday morning. Almost afternoon. 

“I’m just saying, the tax benefits are great and I can’t deny I’d love to lock down the man who makes these pancakes. We’re life partners already anyway.” 

Louis knew Oli was joking, but it still made his heart warm. When he’d been paired with Oli freshman year, he was nervous about how Oli would feel about his roommate being gay. The only thing that was different between how Oli treated Louis versus the rest of their friends was that Oli teased Louis about cute boys instead of cute girls. 

“I’m not saying yes without a ring,” Louis said. 

“That’s probably for the best. Having a husband might affect my game.” 

“Your _game_ ,” Louis said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Anyone catching your eye lately?” 

Oli tended to be a serial monogamist, one long-ish term girlfriend after another. It was kind of weird for him to be single. 

“Thinking about Erin from Spanish,” Oli said. Louis groaned internally at the thought of Spanish. His homework he hadn’t done yet at least. “Anyone catching your eye? Haven’t had a suitor in a while.” 

“I’m gay in a small town at a tiny college,” Louis said. “I’m not bursting with options here.” 

He paused. Oli goaded him on, “buuuuut…”

“But my tutor is pretty cute.” 

“The English major?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. “Curly hair, dimples, tall, a little shy. He’s...I don’t know. Interesting. Magnetic.” 

“Where’s your first date gonna be?” Oli asked, like it was a foregone conclusion. Louis at least appreciated the confidence. 

“He has a boyfriend,” Louis said, trying to shrug it off like he didn’t care. Oli knocked his shoulder into Louis’. 

“No use getting tied down now,” Oli said. 

Yeah. Louis figured he was right. 

-

Louis could swear the book got longer every time he picked it up. But that Sunday he diligently grabbed it and sat on the couch next to Oli as Oli did his Organic Chem, and read two chapters. It was...dull. He’d been reading forever and they weren’t even on the ship yet. At this pace, he doubted there would even be a whale in the book. 

The words sounded so different in his own head than when they came out of Harry’s mouth. He didn’t want Harry to think he was fucking illiterate, but he also couldn’t deny that it was more fun to read with Harry. He took a photo of his book and opened the text chain he had with Harry. He’d sent Louis some cool Moby Dick art that was very intense, and they’d somehow ended up texting until almost three am about the art classes they’d taken to fulfill the grad requirement (painting for Harry, pottery for Louis), and somehow the fact that Harry had been a nude model for the figure drawing class came up. 

Louis didn’t even know what to _do_ with that information. 

He added the photo he took. _Slooooooooooow progress._

Harry typed back almost immediately. _I’m almost jealous you’re reading without me._

Butterflies. Louis had butterflies over a boy. Louis never got butterflies. Louis also never felt this inexplicable pull toward someone. 

_Well any time you want to read to me, I’m free._ Louis said. Obviously he hoped that Harry took the bait, but it was casual enough to be a joke, if reading out loud to Louis was an offer that had expired. 

Harry’s typing bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Louis thought he was going to get a paragraph of a response, but instead he just got one word: _Now?_

-

Louis picked Harry up from his dorm and drove them into town to the diner that was open late. It was after dinner, but Louis hadn’t really eaten anything, and he at least wanted to buy Harry a milkshake or something to let him know he was appreciated. 

“We could have read at my place, my roommate is cool. Introverted, but cool,” Harry said. 

“I wanna buy you dinner or something. Or a slice of pie at least,” Louis said, pulling into the parking lot. 

“I can buy my own pie, you don’t have to,” Harry said. He was so polite. Too polite. 

“Where are you _from_?” Louis asked, unclipping his seat belt but not moving to get out of the car. It came out a little confrontational, but it was a little confrontational. 

“Apple Valley,” Harry said. “Minnesota,” he clarified. 

“Minnesota fucking nice,” Louis said, rolling his eyes. He was a born-and-raised Wisconsin boy. He hated Minnesota Nice. “You’re not allowed to be polite about pie. It’s the law.” 

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, and Louis thought he might be legitimately upset about it. But by the time they slid into a booth, Harry was back to normal. Their waitress came and they got coffee and french fries and pie, Harry double checking with Louis to make sure it was okay before he ordered his piece. 

“Don’t you have real homework to work on?” Louis asked, stirring cream into his coffee. “I mean, I’m not trying to talk you out of this by any means, but I do feel like I’m taking up your time here.” 

“Of course I have real homework,” he said. “I usually get it done in between classes honestly. Right now I’m working on a short story and I have a bunch of reading for my sociology class, but writing doesn’t feel like work, and I’m a fast reader so I’m not too worried. And you’re not taking up my time. This is fun for me.”

“And you don’t have plans with the boyfriend?” Louis asked. He was curious, alright? And maybe a little jealous. 

“Matthew is working on his thesis right now so he’s pretty busy,” Harry said, mood dropping noticeably at the mention of the boyfriend. Maybe Louis just didn’t know how to read him very well yet. 

“Senior then? What’s his major?”

“Philosophy,” Harry said, and Louis couldn’t contain his groan. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” Louis said. 

“Sounds like you have philosophy major baggage,” Harry said, quirking an eyebrow up. Fuck, his dimple in his half smile. It would be the death of Louis. 

“An ex I’m not proud of having. He was a senior when I was a sophomore though, so he’s been gone for a while, thankfully. Insufferable. Never shut up. He was completely convinced he was smarter than everyone else on campus, maybe most of all me. And he hated giving head.” 

Harry laughed, face turning bright red. 

“Sorry, maybe that was too much,” Louis said. It was the way he’d talk around his friends, but he realized that he and Harry weren’t on the same level as him and Oli or Luke. 

“No, not too much,” Harry said, flicking his eyes down to the table where his hands held his coffee mug. Louis had watched him dump an obscene amount of sugar into that cup moments before. “I hope you know you deserve a boyfriend who’s nice to you.” 

Louis’ heart melted. Every moment he spent with Harry felt like slipping straight into a black hole of a crush. If there was no escape, he might as well let himself slip.

“Oh Library, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” 

Harry took his compliment like an insult. “You’re a nice person, Louis. You deserve a boyfriend who will...you know.” 

“Suck my dick?” Louis teased. 

Their waitress chose that moment to bring them their pie and fries, a tight look on her face. Louis would tip her double. 

“Whoops,” Harry said as she left, not even asking if they needed anything else. He covered his face with his hands. 

“So bashful,” Louis said. He knew he was flirting. He knew he was flirting with someone else’s boyfriend. But it was harmless. Harry was sweet. How could he not flirt with him? 

“I think the locals put up with a lot living in a college town,” Harry said, looking guilty for being there. Of course he felt bad for just...going to college in a town.

“I’m sure the diner and the bars are grateful for us hooligans,” Louis said. Louis didn’t feel bad for being here. He was paying too much to be here to feel bad about it. Private college. Jeez. Whose idea had that been? (A seventeen-year-old’s.)

Harry took a bite of his pie. He got apple with a scoop of ice cream, and Louis could tell from how the ice cream was melting that the pie had been warmed up. Louis looked at his own slice of lemon meringue - usually his favorite - and felt jealous of Harry’s. Apple pie and vanilla ice cream. On paper tragically boring. But Harry closed his eyes when he took a bite, like it had been years since he’d had pie. To the diner’s credit, they made solid pies. 

“You want a bite?” Harry asked, when he caught Louis staring. He nudged his pie toward Louis, and yeah. Louis did want a bite. The pie was warm, filling slightly tart, crust buttery and flaky, ice cream smooth and melty. It wasn’t what he thought he’d wanted but now he realized it was perfect. 

“Pie was an excellent idea if I do say so myself,” Louis said. 

“We should probably start this, though,” Harry said, patting his copy of Moby Dick. And...where was Louis’ copy? 

“I think I left my book in the car,” Louis said. He was fairly sure he grabbed it when he left his apartment to pick Harry up. He’d been too busy convincing Harry to let him buy him pie when they’d arrived at the restaurant to remember the book. 

“Oh, that’s okay,” Harry said, and in a moment, he’d slid out of his side of the booth into Louis’, one fluid motion. Louis scooted over just a bit to make some more room, and Harry settled next to him, close. Almost touching. He opened his book, and flipped past his bookmark a couple chapters. “You’re at The Ship, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. His voice sounded distant even to himself, but his thoughts were very wrapped up in how nice Harry smelled. Kind of like sandalwood, something clean too. He wanted to put his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Can you see okay?” Harry asked, angling the book so they could both see the page. And when Louis confirmed, Harry read. Louis wasn’t used to seeing the pages of Harry’s book as they read, covered in his notes and highlights. It felt so personal, like Harry was letting him in to a private part of himself. There were multiple writing utensils used on each page, like he’d made different notes on different re-reads, or revisited sections over and over again. 

They paused for bites of pie, sharing the apple between their two forks before moving on to Louis’ lemon meringue. When the waitress came to refill their coffee, she looked less scandalized when she realized they must be doing homework. Maybe a little confused at the read-aloud. 

When the pie was gone, the fries were cold, but Louis ate them anyway. 

There were other people in the diner around them. Some clearly students, some with homework in front of them. Some older couples who lived in town. But the pace of the diner that late on a Sunday night was calm. It was dark outside, the diner lit with warm yellow lights, the old maroon booths and fake wood tables seeming cozy under these conditions, instead of worn down. It was the end of January in Wisconsin, but they were warm inside together. 

Harry wasn’t reading loudly. Louis didn’t have to ask why. He already knew it was a politeness thing. He didn’t want to disturb anyone else’s homework or conversation. It was fine by Louis. It gave him an excuse to stay close, to be attentive to Harry’s warm, deep voice. It always seemed deeper to Louis than he remembered. There was something so soothing about the cadence of his words. Louis wanted to wear them as a blanket. 

Louis was sitting so close to Harry that he felt Harry’s phone buzz in his pocket. Just once. A text. Harry ignored it, turning the page to reach the end of the chapter they were on. It buzzed again. Then a couple more times. Harry sighed. Slid his phone out of his pocket to check it. 

Louis swore he wasn’t trying to look, but he could see the texts were from “M <3” - the boyfriend. Louis felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. He tried to subtly put a little distance between him and Harry. Harry, he reminded himself again, had a boyfriend. 

Harry responded and put his phone away. 

He started reading the next chapter, but his phone continued to buzz. 

“You need to get back,” Louis said. He could hear how sad he sounded. Harry sighed again. Lots of sighs about the boyfriend. 

“Yeah,” he said. Louis grabbed the check, left a good tip, and followed Harry out to the car. 

“You know, you are at risk of making me enjoy this book,” Louis said, as they headed back on campus. 

“Well I can’t pretend that isn’t my goal,” Harry said. Louis could hear the smile in his voice. He always wanted Harry to be smiling. 

When Louis pulled into the parking lot for Harry’s dorm, there was a man waiting by the dorm’s entrance. 

“That’s Matthew,” Harry said. Matthew was in a sweater and khakis, long pea coat open to the cold. He was wearing boat shoes. In snow. Louis wanted to retch. Matthew looked stern, and honestly not very much fun.

“That sure is a philosophy major,” Louis said. He came to a stop in front of the building. Had Matthew not been there, Louis would have reached out to touch Harry. His arm, probably. Maybe his cheek if he was feeling especially bold. 

“Thanks for the ride, and the pie,” Harry said. 

“Literally any time, Library. Always a pleasure.” And yes, it absolutely sucked to drop Harry directly into the arms of another man, but if he had to, it was nice to leave him with a blush on his cheeks. 

-

Louis could see a future where his lit professor didn’t think he was an idiot. 

The future wasn’t exactly now, but he was climbing out of the hole he’d started in. With Harry’s help (nearly daily meetups, even if they were short, even if they only talked about the book for five minutes before moving on to something else), he was almost caught up on his reading, and maybe he had SparkNotes’d the chapters he had yet to get to, just so he knew what was going on. He answered two questions correctly in their discussion, and he was proud, even if both times his answers had been elaborated on by one of his classmates with actual depth and insight. 

In the very least, he was able to actually follow along with the discussion. 

Drop deadline was rapidly approaching, and Amy gave him the go-ahead to stay in the class.

He lit his customary post-class cigarette in the quad, and was about to text Harry his little victory with Amy when he saw Harry across the quad. It wasn’t weird; the quad got the majority of foot travel on campus. But he was with Matthew, who had a possessive hand on his lower back. Harry had his hands on Matthew’s chest, and they were talking, faces so close together. It looked intense.

Matthew looked like a JCrew model. He looked like you were about to take him home for Easter dinner, and it was just Tuesday. Tuesday on a college campus. Louis was in beat up jeans, a thrifted cream oversized cable knit sweater, and his winter coat, with huge fur-lined hood and cigarette burns on the cuffs that he had actually grown fond of. He was nothing like Matthew. 

Louis couldn’t finish his cigarette. He stamped it out and headed into the science building for his econ class. 

He couldn’t have the image of Harry kissing someone else in his mind. 

-

Louis would never be a basketball fan. But since his friends would never care about soccer the way he did, the Bucks were on his TV.

It was Friday night and they had the whole weekend ahead of them. There wasn’t much nightlife in Bear Valley, but they would go to the bar tomorrow. One of the two bars in town. But until then, they drank shitty beer in Louis and Oli’s off-campus apartment to avoid harassment from the college’s annoying public safety officers. 

There were never enough spots to sit down on, which seemed like a problem last fall, but now Louis didn’t want to acquire a new piece of furniture just to have to get rid of it when they left. Most of what was in their apartment would probably get inherited by Bear Valley students who still had time left on their degree, but the lack of seating in this moment did leave Louis leaning against the opening to the kitchen, beer in hand. 

Any room was better with people in it. Louis had grown up with too many siblings to count sometimes, and honestly struggled without the chaos of all of them around him. Having Oli, Luke, Calvin, and Stan all together was some kind of chaos, though. They’d met in the freshman dorms, and had spent much of the last four years like this - drinking together. Arguing about basketball. Complaining about this tiny college in this small town in the southeastern corner of Wisconsin. Sure, they’d all chosen to go here. But four years in, they all just wanted options. Freedom. They had all outgrown their goldfish bowl, and while Louis was excited for that, he knew moments like this wouldn’t be something they carried into their adult lives. 

“I’m sure that sad face is just about the Bucks’ score,” Luke said from the couch. 

“Not sad,” Louis said. “Just thinking.” 

“That’s a bad idea,” Oli said, and his drunk friends laughed at his expense. Louis rolled his eyes at them, drained the last sip of his beer, and turned toward the fridge to get another. 

His pocket buzzed, and he was expecting a twitter notification or something, but when he slipped his phone free, it was an Instagram notification. Harry followed him. Louis smiled, opened his app, and followed Harry back. 

Then before he could think about it, he was sending him a text. _Friday night and you’re scrolling Instagram? No wild parties, Library?_

Louis opened his new beer while he waited for a response. He wasn’t sure what kind of chemicals his brain released specifically when he was watching Harry’s typing bubble, but they were specific. He was alone in the kitchen and probably would be until the game went to commercial, and in that moment, it felt like it was just him and Harry. 

_I have to write like, four good poems by Monday and I have...zero._

_Are you seriously alone doing homework on a Friday night?_ Louis asked. Maybe he was fishing for whether or not Harry was with Matthew. It was none of his business but he couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t feel a little better if Harry was alone. 

_Matthew went home for the weekend so it’s just me here._

Louis knew he had already had too many beers to go pick Harry up, and while his apartment was technically walking distance, it was like, a forty minute walk. In the cold and dark. He wasn’t going to ask Harry to do that. 

_Wanna hang tomorrow?_ Louis asked. He might not have without the alcohol in his system, but he was just loose enough to at least pursue this as a friendship, even if he wasn’t going to get to kiss Harry. Harry was sweet and kind of silly and so smart. He was nothing like Louis’ friends, and maybe that was a good thing. 

_Miss Moby Dick that much?_ Harry asked back. 

_We don’t have to read. We usually go to Paul’s on Saturdays. The good bar with the cheap shots._ Logically he knew Harry would have other friends than his boyfriend. Other Saturday night plans. But it didn’t hurt to ask. 

There was commotion as he watched Harry’s typing bubble. The game was on commercial, the Bucks were down, the boys were hungry. Stan coordinated pizza delivery.

“I see those heart eyes,” Oli said, coming to lean against the counter next to him. “You texting your smarty pants?” 

Louis bit his lip. There was no use denying it. “Yeah, I invited him out tomorrow night.” 

“Doesn’t he have a boyfriend?” 

“Boyfriend is home for the weekend,” Louis said. “Plus, c’mon, I can respect some boundaries. But hanging out with Harry is...I can’t explain it. I’m just happy when I’m with him, talking to him.” He felt the buzz of Harry’s new text. 

_I’m free tomorrow night :)_

Oli read his screen over his shoulder, taking in the texts above it. He helped himself to scrolling back up their text thread, which now seemed miles long. In the last few days, it seemed like he always had something to say to Harry. And if he let the thread go quiet, it wasn’t long before Harry resurrected it. 

“He likes you,” Oli said, taking a sip from his beer. “This is...dangerous territory.” 

“I know what I’m doing,” Louis said. He had no idea what he was doing. 

-

Harry was a very, very cute drunk, and Louis absolutely regretted finding that out. It was Louis’ turn to be the designated driver, so he’d stopped after his first beer, and was just drinking cokes now. His friends fell in love with Harry instantly, which was a relief. Two shots in and Harry’s humor morphed almost exclusively into dad jokes, which was unfortunately very charming. He came out of his shell a little. 

Paul’s Tavern was as busy as it ever was on a weekend, which is to say that they lived in a small town, and this was the only thing to do. It was crowded, but he and his friends were in their usual spot, gathered around a high-top table by one of the dart boards. 

Luke had taken it upon himself to teach Harry darts, since he “didn’t really hang out in bars, I dunno,” and he was actually pretty decent at it. When their game ended, Harry rotated out of the lineup so Stan could play, and came to stand by Louis. 

“This is fun,” he said, his eyes literally twinkling. Maybe it was the bar lights, it didn’t matter. His hair was down around his shoulders in all its curly magnificence, and he had a striped sweater vest on over a button up. Plaid pants. Who even was this kid? He was horribly overdressed. He was so beautiful. 

At this rate, Louis thought maybe _he_ could churn out four poems this weekend. 

“I’m glad you came with us tonight. My friends are about to adopt you.” 

“Are you jealous?” Harry asked, leaning against the table toward Louis. He bit his lower lip. Had Louis ever considered someone in a sweater vest sexy before? There was a first time for everything, he guessed. 

“Only if they keep buying you drinks.” Louis’ friends had all decided that Harry wasn’t paying that night, which spoke deeply to Harry’s...Louis didn’t know what. _Je ne sais quoi._

“No one is stopping you from buying me a drink,” Harry said, and he was absolutely right. Louis led them to the bar and bought Harry a rum and coke. When Harry turned away from the bar, the bartender, the Paul, raised his eyebrows at him. Louis mimed him zipping his lips. Paul silently acquiesced. 

Harry noticed Louis wasn’t behind him and turned around, grabbing Louis’ hand to pull him back toward their table. They rejoined a conversation Oli obviously started, one that felt well-worn to Louis at this point, about the number of live-action children's movies from the early 90’s that featured a deadbeat dad’s redemption arc as the main plot. Today’s example was the Mighty Ducks. 

“It is alarming that they gave the hero’s journey to an old man when it’s a kids movie,” Harry said. “The kids are like, side characters for an alcoholic’s growth arc? That’s why Sandlot is such a perfect movie, because our hero is a kid. And maybe they give him the perspective of an adult through narrative framing…”

No wonder Louis’ friends already loved him. Harry was so articulate still after a few drinks, but Louis could hardly follow the conversation, because Harry’s hand was still in his. At some point, Harry had twined their fingers. And when Harry finally dropped Louis’ hand, it was so he could instead grab Louis’ bicep, holding him even closer. Louis didn’t think Harry saw the look Oli gave him. A warning for caution. 

Harry was a chatty drunk, and happily accepted the new rum and coke someone from their group bought him, telling Calvin and Stan the idea for the novel he wanted to write as his thesis the following year. Louis thought he would actually want to read it, which should have been a warning flag in and of itself. The guys went to go play pool against some of the middle aged locals they were friendly with, and when Louis turned fully to face Harry, he had a big, sweet smile on his face. 

They were so close together, and when Harry wound his arms around Louis’ neck, it felt natural. Louis’ hands found his waist by instinct, before his brain could tell him it was a bad idea. But the message did get there. He was very, very glad he was sober in that moment. A couple beers would probably be the difference between a fun night and a mistake. He brought one hand up to cup Harry’s cheek. 

“I think it’s maybe time to go home, huh sweetheart?” Louis tucked a loose curl behind Harry’s ear. 

“Nooooooo,” Harry said, tipping his forehead to rest against Louis’. Louis very, very gently eased them apart from each other. Harry wasn’t trashed, but the something that they could clearly both feel between them apparently needed to be experienced sober. They needed caution. 

“You need to drink a lot of water and get some sleep, alright?” 

“Are you going home?” Harry asked, a pout on his face. 

“I’m going to take you home,” Louis said. He’d go drop Harry off and come back until his friends were ready to leave. He wasn’t abandoning them without a ride. 

They got their coats, and Louis went to tell the boys what was going on. Harry was quiet and sleepy on the drive back to the dorm, and Louis wished that he still had Harry’s soft hand in his. When he pulled up to Harry’s dorm, he stopped, put his car in park. 

“Do you need me to walk you up?” he asked, and Harry shook his head. 

“I got this.”

“Okay, please text me when you’re safe in your dorm, alright?” 

“You are one year older than me,” Harry said. But his reprimand was soft. “I’ll text you.” 

Then, before Louis could do anything about it, Harry leaned across the center console and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, and slipped out of the car. Louis watched him disappear into his dorm, then waited a few minutes, Harry’s kiss burning on his cheek, before he got his text. 

_Safe & sound_

Louis couldn’t help sending back one more text. _Drink some water._

Then he headed back to the bar. 

-

Louis spent Sunday trying to figure out how to text Harry. Did he ignore the fact that Harry had gotten a little handsy when he was drunk? Did he acknowledge it? Did he check in to see if Harry was hungover?

He wrung his hands all day, until Oli finally told him to sit down and do something productive. “I can’t focus when you’re lusting after a boy who’s taken.” 

“I’m not...lusting,” Louis said. Sure, Harry was absolutely and unarguably the most beautiful person on campus, but it felt like more than that. Even though he knew he couldn’t be with Harry, he still wanted to be around him. 

“Whatever you’re doing, think about it from the boyfriend’s perspective. What if someone was behaving the way you are around Harry around your boyfriend? You probably wouldn’t like it very much.” 

Louis couldn’t really argue with that. “It’s not like we’ve kissed. I’m not going to kiss him.” 

“Cheating isn’t just kissing,” Oli pointed out. Oli had first hand experience with being cheated on. Louis knew this, knew that even though Oli was over her, that betrayal still stung. 

“We’re just friends,” Louis argued. Friends who had undeniable sexual attraction and an immediate personal connection. Very platonic. 

“Do whatever you want, Lou, but don’t think I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’ when this blows up in your face.” 

Oli grabbed the TV remote and flipped on Bob’s Burgers to signal that the conversation was over. Louis thought about what he said, tried to feel guilty about it even. But he just couldn’t. The way he felt around Harry...he couldn’t think that feeling was wrong. 

He watched three episodes with Oli, the tension in the air dissipating between them through their laughter. Louis slightly overcooked some chicken for dinner, and just before Oli turned on the heist movie they were going to watch, Louis’ phone buzzed. 

His heart leapt when he saw Harry’s name on his screen, the little stack of books emoji next to it that Harry had added himself. He unlocked his phone to read the message. 

_Can you come over_

_please_

No punctuation. That was...weird. He tapped out a reply. 

_Now? Yeah, you wanna read?_

He was confused as he watched Harry’s typing bubble. Usually they’d chat for a while before one of them suggested reading, which was often just a guise for hanging out. It usually wasn’t this...direct. 

_Matthew and I had a fight. I just need a friend_

Louis let out a sigh. Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t go over there to comfort the boy he liked about another boy. But...he knew he was going. 

He started typing a message. _Oh sweetheart_ , he started, then deleted the ‘sweetheart.’ Probably wasn’t good to have that in their text history. _Oh Library. That’s awful. I’m on my way._

He got up and got his keys and coat and heard Oli sigh. “Make good choices,” he said, without even having to ask at this point if Louis was going to see Harry. 

Louis parked in the dorm lot and tailgated into Harry’s building behind some other students who lived there. Louis couldn’t even really imagine what Harry’s face would look like sad. He was usually so genuinely bright and happy. Louis prepared himself to see something other than that. 

He knocked on Harry’s dorm door, and his roommate answered. “I’m gonna go read in the lounge for a while,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Louis like he absolutely knew what was going on. 

The door closed behind Louis, and there he was, on the couch, blanket pulled over his shoulders. His hair was in a bun that was messy and falling out, eyes red rimmed from crying. 

“Sweetheart,” Louis breathed as he went to sit next to Harry. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders and let Harry cry into his shirt for a little while. Harry was curled into himself, holding the blanket around him tight. When his crying slowed and his breathing evened out, Louis asked what happened. Harry straightened up and wiped his face on the blanket. Louis wasn’t holding him anymore, but they were still so close that Louis could feel his body heat. 

“I told him I’m staying here this summer. There’s a play writing workshop the Theater and English departments are doing together, and my academic advisor recommended it to me. Actually like, half the English faculty said I should do it, and I want to.” 

“And Matthew is mad that you want to write a play?” Louis thought Harry would be good at writing a play. Louis kinda thought Harry would be good at whatever he wanted to do. 

“Matthew is moving to Minneapolis with a few friends after graduation, since he got a job. Since I’m from that area-ish, he assumed that I would at least be in Minnesota for the summer. He never talked to me about moving. He never talked to me about spending the summer with him. He just assumed that I would. That I wouldn’t have any other plans outside of him.” 

“That’s fucking stupid,” Louis said. His hand crept over to Harry’s knee, and Harry leaned into his touch. 

Harry laughed. “Yeah, it is fucking stupid. He took it so personally, like I had ruined the summer after graduation for him. Like I did this to him. Like, I’m still in college. I’m not graduating. I’m still working on my degree, and I care about it. And he just expects me to stop caring about it because it would be more convenient to him?” 

Fresh tears leaked out of his eyes, and Louis couldn’t help but reach out to catch them with his thumb. 

“I know this isn’t very nice of me to say, Library, but your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

He didn’t really expect that to be what put a little smile on Harry’s face, but there it was, hint of a dimple and all. “Matthew isn’t a bad person. We’re just...kind of shit at talking about things. I should feel honored he wants to spend the summer with me.” 

“Should you? With the guy who would rather you miss this cool opportunity in order to sit around in Minnesota with him?”

“Say ‘Minnesota’ without sounding like you’re disgusted by it challenge,” Harry said, and Louis had to laugh at himself. Sometimes he did get caught up in the sibling rivalry that was the Minnesota/Wisconsin relationship. 

“So what are you going to do?” Louis asked, more gently. 

“I’m gonna take the workshop,” Harry said. He sounded confident in his decision, no hesitation. No compromise. Louis had expected some hesitancy. He was a little surprised and impressed. 

Louis smiled, tipped Harry’s head up with the tips of his fingers on Harry’s chin until their eyes met. “Good. Can’t say I blame him for being sad you won’t be together this summer though. I’d be sad too.” 

Harry blushed, and with Louis’ fingertips still on his chin, he couldn’t look away. The electricity between them was palpable. 

“Where are you going after graduation?” Harry asked, voice just above a whisper. He didn’t have to speak loudly. Louis was right there. 

“Chicago.” 

“Close,” Harry said, soft smile on his sad face. 

“Close,” Louis agreed.

-

It was Monday and Louis had Harry on his mind. When he left him the night before, Harry had been feeling better, tears dried, smile on his face. He’d hugged Louis goodbye for longer than Louis had ever hugged most of his friends. But he guessed Harry just needed a good hug at that moment. 

Louis was just exiting the science building - which had his business keystone classroom, whatever - and fishing his cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket when someone called his name. 

“Lou,” Harry’s unmistakable voice rang through the quad. The campus really was pretty in the winter. There was a fresh dusting of snow that brightened everything up, and it was a sunny day, light bouncing off every snowflake. Days like this were why people got sunburns in the winter. 

Harry had a slouchy beanie over his long hair, and a long, camel colored coat that was maybe once fancy, but had lived a long life. In a good way. His face looked bright and healthy, happy. 

“What brings you to the quad on this fine Monday, my dear Library?” Louis asked, jokingly formal. 

“Why just to see your face, of course. And Advanced Poetry just got out.” 

“Four good poems,” Louis remembered. He lit his cigarette, took a drag. “Did you write them?”

Louis was not imagining the sudden blush on Harry’s cheeks, the way he looked at his shoes immediately. “I wrote four poems. One of them may be good.” 

“Is that something you share?” 

“Are you asking to read my poetry?”

“Maybe I am,” Louis said. God, he couldn’t be within six feet of Harry without hopelessly flirting. Actually, if their text thread was any indication, Louis could be on the moon and still flirt with Harry.

“Let’s get you through Moby Dick first, and then we can discuss further reading. What are you doing now?” 

“Heading to my car,” Louis said. “Last class of the day just got out.” 

“Mine too,” Harry said. “Wanna read?”

Louis was never gonna say no to that. Or, more specifically, Louis was never going to say no to Harry. “Wanna go to mine?” 

-

Louis was still trying to figure out how to feed himself. But he had a frozen pizza, and he threw it in the oven when they got back to his place. Oli had class and then a student government meeting, which meant it was just the two of them for a while. Louis had the good sense to be nervous about it. 

“Thanks again for yesterday. And Saturday,” Harry said, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. Louis had at least poured him a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. If nothing else, they could have cold water. “I feel like when I think about it, I have plenty of friends. People to sit with at lunch, or study with. People to complain about professors with. But I have to admit I don’t get invited out like that much.” 

Harry’s oversized cardigan was fuzzy, a faded old t-shirt beneath it. He looked so cuddly. Louis had the feeling of Harry’s arms around his neck, his hands on Harry’s waist, Harry’s lips on his cheek absolutely burned into his memory. He also had the memory of Harry in his arms crying over his boyfriend. Harry seemed to want to gloss over that though, so Louis didn’t press. 

“It’s a standing invitation. We’re there almost every Saturday. Not much to interrupt it.” 

“Maybe Matthew would like it,” Harry said carefully. The thing between them, while palpable, while clearly acknowledged between them, was still very much unspoken. And Harry was still very much taken. It felt like a reminder to both of them. 

“Maybe he would,” Louis said, dreading the thought of sweet, happy drunk Harry falling all over the boy he really should be falling all over. And not Louis. 

“You might like him, you know.” 

“I can’t really imagine a scenario where I would,” Louis said. He didn’t know how to say _I don’t want to be around you and the boy you kiss because I will start aflame with jealousy._ And Louis was pretty certain Harry knew this.

“He goes home most weekends anyway,” Harry said, shrugging, sad. 

“And he leaves you here, alone in this tiny town, to what, read classic literature and wash your hair?” 

“Well the reading classic literature part is fun at least,” Harry said. The look on his face - God, sultry in that fuzzy of a cardigan? Louis felt like his world was absolutely upside down. 

“And the hair washing?” Louis asked, teasing. 

“It’s bad for your hair to wash it every day, thank you very much.” 

“You know your hair is gorgeous,” Louis said, feeling somewhat safe in this room where the word _Matthew_ still floated between them like a protective reminder not to cross a line.

It was probably that comment that pushed it too far, from teasingly flirting to admission of real attraction. But Louis wouldn’t have taken it back if he could. It turned Harry shy. Which was maybe a mistake, because Louis just wanted to hold him. 

“Should we read?” Harry asked, breaking their moment. 

“Yeah,” Louis said, pointing to his copy of his book on the coffee table. He’d spent some time with it the day before. But as much as he wanted to impress Harry by reading it, it was officially boring. 

Harry got comfortable on the couch, and inspected where Louis had left off while Louis pulled the pizza out of the oven. He left it to cool, then sat next to Harry. Harry shifted close to him, and there it was again, the sandalwood and...was it linen? That clean cotton smell. Louis wanted to bury his nose in Harry’s curls, and was grateful when Harry started reading. 

A chapter later, Harry paused. 

“You okay?” Louis asked. 

“It’s cold in here,” Harry said. “Are you cold?” 

Louis’ entire body was on fire being this close to Harry, but yeah, if Harry was cold, it was cold. He grabbed a blanket from the other side of the couch to give to Harry, and Harry spread it over both of them. Louis had his feet up on the coffee table, and Harry’s joined them, legs pressing together from hip to ankle. This was...not platonic. Louis wasn’t exactly sure when this had slipped into this, from easy flirting to constantly wanting to touch each other, but it felt so good. 

Harry got them through a few more chapters, but Louis honestly couldn’t have told you what they were about. He would have to SparkNotes them later or something. This moment felt fragile, like it might never happen again. Like one of them would muster up some good sense about the situation. Sitting this close was almost awkward, shoulder to shoulder, like there were one too many arms in the way, and though he knew he was sowing his own heartbreak, he slipped his arm from between them and wrapped it around Harry’s shoulders. 

It could have been what snapped them both out of whatever they were doing, but instead, Harry made the sweetest soft sound in his throat, and snuggled into Louis, head on his shoulder like they did this all the time, and kept reading. 

The pizza was forgotten to get cold on the counter. 

Usually Harry would pause here and there to talk about what was happening in the book, to make sure Louis understood, and to add context sometimes where it was needed. But today it seemed perfectly clear to both of them that what they were doing had nothing to do with a book that was published one hundred and seventy years ago. 

At some point, Louis had rested his cheek against Harry’s head. And when Harry came to the end of the chapter he was reading, he slipped the bookmark back in, and shifted to wrap his arms around Louis’ waist. Louis’ free arm came up to complete their hug, and he closed his eyes, drinking this moment in. 

He ached with how badly he wanted this to be real. How badly he wanted Harry to be his. If Harry didn’t have a boyfriend, he would have picked him up and taken him to bed in that moment. 

Instead, the front door burst open. “Lou, do you have-” Oli started, then stopped when he saw them. They sprang apart, caught. Harry’s face burned deep red. Louis wanted to cup his cheeks in his hands, tell him it was okay. But obviously he couldn’t do that. In that moment, they both realized that while they hadn’t crossed a line yet, they were in the process of crossing it. “Should I leave?” Oli finally asked after a beat. 

“No, I should get back,” Harry said, standing up and busying himself by folding the blanket that had been over them. 

Louis told Oli he could have the pizza if he wanted (he did) and drove Harry back to campus. It felt familiar, dropping Harry off at his dorm like he would at the end of a date. The air between them was thick like it always was, but instead of it being thick with the undeniable chemistry that they couldn’t escape, it felt like they were surrounded by guilt, maybe fear. Louis could only assume Harry was afraid of getting caught. Maybe of losing Louis. It made his stomach turn to acknowledge that maybe he was scared of losing Matthew. Louis was only sure of his own fear. That this would be the moment that makes Harry realize that they can’t be around each other. They can’t trust themselves. Louis wasn’t sure if either of them were strong enough to draw that line. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, the car idling in front of Harry’s building. Louis wasn’t sure what exactly he was apologizing for. For having a boyfriend? For stringing Louis along? For the consequences Louis was going to face from Oli when he got home? 

“Please don’t apologize, Library,” Louis said. He reached for Harry’s hand, couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Thank you for the pizza,” he said instead. Louis knew he wasn’t talking about pizza. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Louis said, and unfortunately he meant it. He really, really shouldn’t be calling someone else’s boyfriend ‘sweetheart,’ but it just came out of his mouth when he looked at Harry’s face. He let Harry’s hand go. Watched him slip into his building. Louis’ least favorite moment of any day now. 

It felt like his heart was being grated over hot coals. He opened up his Instagram app and muted Harry’s stories. He couldn’t bear to see any Matthew posts. 

Instead, he hovered on Harry’s most recent post on his grid. His copy of Moby Dick next to Harry’s. Louis wasn’t sure when Harry had taken that picture, but it was sweet. His caption had made Louis’ heart thump loud in his chest when he’d first read it the day before when Harry posted it, but made it ache now. _Falling in love all over again._

  
-

Oli was giving him the silent treatment. It was awful, since the two of them usually could never shut up. 

His text thread with Harry had been quiet all week too, the mutual acknowledgement that they needed to take a breather. It was the worst week of his semester for sure, but he couldn’t deny that it helped him get caught up on his homework. 

He was finally with the rest of the class on his Moby Dick reading, thanks in part (in full) to skimming and SparkNotes, and Amy pulled him aside after class Thursday to tell him that she thought he could pass; she’d talked to Harry about him apparently, and she knew how hard they were working together. Louis’ heart ached for that nerd. 

They were a third of the way through the semester already, and Louis wasn’t sure where the time had gone. Every other part of his life felt like he was on auto-pilot. He did his Spanish homework alone, and went to his classes, and hung out with his friends. But some part of him always felt like he was waiting to see Harry again. Biding his time until they could be together again. 

“I’m sorry you’re heartbroken,” Oli said, breaking his silence Saturday morning. It might have been due to Louis plying him with chocolate chip pancakes. It might have been because he figured Louis had suffered enough. “You’re really messed up over him.” 

Louis had been vacillating between being a zombie and being an exposed nerve all week. He knew that he wasn’t fun to be around in that moment. All he could think about was Harry. His curls, his dimples, his laugh - both the shy one and the unguarded honk - his thrift store clothes, the way he could produce a pen off his body at any given moment in time, lest he be caught in some kind of reading emergency without the ability to take notes. His boyfriend. 

His thoughts always came crashing down when he thought of the philosophy major. 

Louis dropped his face into his hands, his groan not at all muffled. From next to him on the couch, Oli patted his back. “I think I’m in love with him,” he admitted. He had never felt the fullness of feeling he got when he was around Harry before. He’d had boyfriends he liked, and ones he thought he loved, but he’d never been run over by it before. Never felt his brain as saturated with whatever chemicals were flooding it right now. He couldn’t remember back to freshman year psych, but he knew his body was doing something crazy. It felt like being hit by a car. 

“Fuck,” Oli said. “I didn’t realize…”

“It was like...walking down a regular path, and then I took one more step and fell off a cliff,” Louis said. He was just exhausted, wrung out by it. He could imagine how incredible falling feels when you’re allowed to be with your person. When you can hold them, kiss them. When you can say out loud how you feel. But without any of that, Louis felt rendered lifeless. 

Oli rubbed his back, and Louis let hot, quiet tears slip down his cheeks. He had long since stopped being embarrassed by crying in front of Oli. He wiped his tears on the cuffs of his crew neck, shoved his bangs out of his eyes, and sat up straight. He felt maybe 0.0001% better. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Louis said. “I feel like I can barely control myself around him. He’s just...magnetic. It’s like we’re drawn together, regardless of our feelings.” 

“You could talk to him about it,” Oli said, which was disturbingly wise for Oli. 

“And say what? I know you’re in a relationship, but I love you? I can’t do that to him. If he wanted to be with me, he could break up with his boyfriend. And he hasn’t.” 

“Not to say he won’t,” Oli countered. “You just met him what, a month ago?”

Louis sighed. He knew Oli was trying to give him hope. He wasn’t sure hope was good now. 

“Not to poke a bruise or anything, but who’s his boyfriend?” 

“Just what I wanted to talk about,” Louis complained. “Matthew,” he said reluctantly. And even more reluctantly, because he hated himself for the Instagram stalking that resulted in him knowing this, “Reynolds.” 

Oli made a face. “Seriously?” 

“You know him?” Louis asked. It wasn’t a huge surprise. Their school was small, they were in the same grade. They certainly didn’t know everyone on campus, but they didn’t go to a state university or anything. 

“He was in that history class I took last year,” Oli said. “Kind of an asshole. Know-it-all.” 

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.” 

“Well if I had to choose between the two of you, I’d choose you,” Oli said. 

“Marriage of convenience,” Louis said, poking his cold pancakes with his fork. 

“Forever,” Oli said, giving Louis a side hug before clearing their plates. 

It left Louis free to take care of everything on his to-do list, which could be summed up as “try not to think about Harry at all, while not being able to stop thinking about Harry.” 

He got a lot done that day. 

-

Louis dragged himself through the next week. He video chatted his family, did his laundry (finally), went to a record store with the boys to spend money he probably shouldn’t have. On Wednesday, he and Harry met in the basement of the library at the “regular tutoring time” that they had never once stuck to since their first meeting.

Harry looked probably about as sad as Louis did, the table between them a constant reminder not only that they weren’t on a couch together, but why they weren’t on a couch together. 

Louis was as caught up on his reading as he was going to get (again, he’d have to send flowers to SparkNotes or something), so there was nothing for Harry to read to him. Louis was in the long middle of the book, unclear on why he needed so much minute detail about the nuts and bolts of 19th century whaling. 

Usually when he’d complain about something like this in the text, it would cue the twinkle in Harry’s eyes, and he’d launch into an explanation of something he could love about what Louis was annoyed with. 

Instead, Harry just put his book down. “I miss you,” he said. There was weight behind his words, a raw admission. It wasn’t a casual statement. 

Louis’ answer wasn’t casual either. “I miss you too, Library.” 

“I think I fucked this up, and I hate myself for it.” 

Louis couldn’t help himself. He reached across the table to take one of Harry’s hands. “No, you didn’t fuck up anything. Please don’t think that, sweetheart.” Even though...maybe Harry was right. He wasn’t the only guilty party here, but maybe something had gotten fucked up. 

“This is really hard,” Harry said. 

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Louis said. He felt helpless at the hand of this boy who Louis knew was stringing him along. It wasn’t fair to Louis, for Harry to sit there and tell him he missed him, while staying with his boyfriend. Louis had every right to be upset with him. 

But still...it was Harry. It was _Harry_.

Louis rubbed his thumb across Harry’s knuckles, where he’d left a kiss the week before. 

“I can’t just give you up,” Louis said. It felt clinical to be having this conversation here, under the bright fluorescent of the library. But the neutral ground was more helpful than Louis wanted to admit. He knew if they were anywhere else, Harry would be in his arms by now. 

“You don’t have to,” Harry said. 

Louis felt like he was giving Harry his whole heart, and receiving just a piece of Harry’s back. 

“Can we be friends?” Louis asked. He didn’t have say out loud that the feelings that had for each other clearly weren’t friendship. 

“Please,” Harry said. 

Louis squeezed his hand. “I hate when you don’t have that sweet dimple in your cheek,” Louis said, obliterating any attempt at saying something platonic right out of the gate. He couldn’t help it. Harry looked sad, and it killed him. 

Louis got what he wanted. Harry’s soft blush, a hint of a smile that put the dimple on display. And it was maybe worse than seeing him sad. He pulled his hand away. And while he was out here torturing himself, “do you love him?” 

A question Louis didn’t particularly want an answer to, but couldn’t not know. 

“I don’t know anymore,” Harry said. He had his hands in his lap, shoulders hunched, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. He couldn’t look at Louis. “I...my heart is chaos.” 

Louis took a breath. His heart was beating in double time, hopeful and disappointed in tandem. It felt like he had a chance. It felt like he already lost. Yeah, maybe his heart was chaos too. 

“Amy thinks I can pass,” Louis said, desperately changing the subject. 

Harry finally looked at him. “I’ve been talking to her about you. Amy is the reason I came to school here, did you know that?” 

“Huh?” Louis said. No, he didn’t know that. 

“She’s a novelist. You knew that, right? She’s brilliant, truly this college doesn’t deserve her. But she’s attached to this part of the midwest I guess, so she stays. I said yes to tutoring you because I’m hoping she’ll be my thesis advisor next year.”

“For your novel,” Louis said. 

“For my novel, yeah,” Harry said. “She said she thought you were a hopeless case.”

“I certainly started out as one,” Louis said. He didn’t have the pride to feel defensive about that. 

“You’re talking in class though,” Harry said. 

“Most of the grade is talking,” Louis said. It was a discussion class. Louis wasn’t used to the format. It was a little woo-woo for him, but recently he’d been able to say something about what they had been reading, even if it wasn’t really something smart. 

“I’m proud of you,” Harry said, with far too much earnestness in his voice. 

“Harry,” Louis said, nicknames, pet names gone. It felt weird not to call him something that was just theirs. “You are doing a number on my heart.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and Louis could tell he really was. 

“I think,” he said, trying to gather the courage to say what he needed to say. “It’s too hard to see you right now.” 

It crushed him, his heart in a vise, to watch the tears fall down Harry’s cheeks, and not be able to comfort him. 

“I get it,” he said. 

“We need to cool off for a little bit,” Louis said, though he couldn’t imagine a future where he didn’t feel like this, completely on fire with desire. A future where he could have normal, casual feelings about Harry. Friendship feelings. 

Harry nodded. Louis wanted to walk him back to his dorm, drop him off at his door like they were used to. But he knew he couldn’t do that. 

“Thanks for helping me get through this class. And...for everything.” 

“Please don’t say goodbye to me,” Harry said. 

“Never, Library,” Louis said. The only reason he didn’t cry was because he knew it would make Harry cry harder. And he would do anything for that boy. 

When he left the library, it felt like he left his heart behind. He got in his car, but instead of driving home, he drove out to the lake, a forty minute drive. He started doing this sophomore year when things got to be too much. He’d come to park by Lake Michigan, and take in the expanse of it. Try to feel small. Be overwhelmed by nature. You couldn’t see the shore on the other side of the lake. It was endless. 

It was a damp, drizzly November in his soul, and here he was, at the watery part of the world. He wasn’t sure if Melville’s words were soothing or painful at that point, but that’s what was there. That’s what he had left. 

-

Louis had clearly missed some kind of social meeting his friends had all attended. He suspected there was now a group chat without him so they could all talk about him. They were all mysteriously a little too on the same page with what was going on with him. Louis was too sad to be offended. He probably did need to be discussed behind his back if he was being honest. 

It was a big Saturday if they made the trek to Milwaukee for the evening. Louis knew this was a cheer-up-Louis project, and he tried to put on a happy face for it. Oli was even DD’ing, and he usually tried to weasel out of it any chance he got. 

The five of them packed into Oli’s old Chevy Malibu, and Louis got shotgun AND stereo control, which was a true reflection of how badly his friends thought he was doing. Great. Hope everyone is in the mood for Amy Winehouse on repeat. Which made him think of Amy Benjamin, which made him think of Harry. Never mind. He popped out Back to Black and popped in What’s the Story Morning Glory. He had no energy for anything other than pure comfort in that moment. 

They got dinner first, at a restaurant that wasn’t Jimmy John’s, the diner, or the college cafeteria, which honestly was worth the drive in and of itself. As they left the restaurant, they spilled into downtown Milwaukee, trying to decide which bar to go to. 

“I’m sure there’s like, a website that will tell us which are the gay bars,” Luke said, pulling his phone out to legitimately google that. Louis’ friends were sweet. How did he end up friends with so many straight boys? When Harry talked about his friends, they were all queer. At first, Harry had assumed Oli was gay too, and...back to thinking about Harry. 

“I don’t want to go to a gay bar, I just want to play darts,” Louis said. 

“C’mon, you just need to make out with a stranger, get it out of your system,” Calvin said. 

“I don’t want to kiss someone else,” Louis said, voice sharper than he’d intended. He apparently was on the ‘exposed nerve’ end of his feelings spectrum. How could any of them think that was what he wanted to do? His brain couldn’t even think of something that wasn’t Harry, let alone touch someone who wasn’t Harry. 

Oli slung his arm over Louis’ shoulder. “Alright, we’ll get you normal drunk. But if you do want to kiss a stranger, we’re here to facilitate that.” 

“Great. Four straight wingmen. What could go wrong?” 

But his friends stayed close at the bar, never leaving him alone. They bought him beers, and beat him in darts, and occasionally pointed out cute boys. Or, what his awful straight friends thought were cute boys. But even with the distraction, he couldn’t help thinking about whether Harry was alone in his dorm, boyfriend gone for the weekend. He imagined what it would be like to to knock on his door and kiss him the way he wanted to. 

He couldn’t wait until his brain could let go of this a bit and stop torturing him every second. 

-

March arrived, the snow slowly melting from campus. All it meant for Louis was that he stopped wearing a winter coat inappropriately early. It was the one straight boy thing he did. He let himself get caught up in midterms, wrote a frankly terrible paper for lit on the symbolism of water that was largely incomprehensible, but apparently got him a passing grade. He expected to hear from Amy about it, because clearly Harry hadn’t helped him with it in the slightest. No checkup on how tutoring was or was not going. He wondered if Harry had told her what happened. 

Of course Louis saw him on campus. The barest sliver of him in the corner of his eye would catch Louis’ attention. He always seemed to be with someone, a classmate or a professor - Harry had these strangely close relationships with basically the entire English faculty. He just had an old soul. And of course, sometimes Louis saw him with Matthew. 

Every time he did see Harry though, he hid. He walked literally in the other direction. He took the long way, ducked into empty classrooms, pretended to be absorbed in his phone. He knew Harry was doing the same. Alone at night though, he couldn’t stop his brain from imagining Harry there with him, curled under his duvet with him, his back pressed to Louis’ chest. 

By the end of March, the end of school started coming up too fast for Louis, but also too slow. He knew leaving school would be better for his heart. But no matter how much it hurt, he still wanted to be close to Harry. 

It was late, and Louis was getting ready for bed, spitting toothpaste into the sink when he heard a knock on his front door. It was Friday, and Louis had declined the invitation to go to Paul’s, his friends trying to cram as many of their favorite activities into their last month as possible. 

Maybe Oli had forgotten his keys? Maybe a neighbor needed...something? He pulled a t-shirt over his bare chest, but fuck, you knock on Louis’ door at eleven pm and you’re gonna get a man in his underwear. 

Louis opened the door, and his entire chest dropped out, a trap door he didn’t know existed finally giving out. Harry was there, his hair wild, cheeks tear stained. He looked awful. He looked broken. Louis pulled him into his arms immediately. He pulled them inside, shut the door behind them, and locked it, all without letting Harry go. Fuck whatever courtesy he felt toward Matthew. Fuck whatever heartbreak he felt at his boy not choosing him. Harry was sad, and Louis would do anything to fix that. 

He was crying fresh tears now, face buried in Louis’ neck, clinging to him just as desperately as Louis was to him. It had been weeks since he’d so much as texted Harry, a month since they cuddled on the couch, but it felt like no time had passed. Nothing else mattered. 

“Did you walk here, sweetheart?” Louis asked. It wasn’t an unreasonable walk, but there was a reason Louis had always picked him up and dropped him off. “It’s so late.” 

“Didn’t know what else to do,” Harry said. 

“What happened?” He pulled away from Harry enough to cup his cheeks in his hands, wiping his tears away with his thumbs as gently as he could. 

“He left,” Harry said, voice uneven as he tried to calm down his breathing, his sobs. “He broke up with me. He left.” 

And that familiar cyclone of emotion spun through Louis. Matthew was gone. Did that mean Louis had a chance now? But Louis only had Harry in his arms in order to comfort him about another boy. Again. Nothing about the situation was ideal. Louis hated it. He just fucking hated it. But if it was this or nothing, he chose this. 

He pulled Harry close, rubbed his back slow until Harry’s breathing evened out. 

“Let’s get you some water, alright?” Louis said, pouring Harry water and making him drink it. “Can’t get dehydrated from crying.” 

“Fuck,” Harry said, setting his empty glass on the counter. “I’m sorry I’m messy.”

“Hey,” Louis said, hands on Harry’s waist. Now that they’d broken the touch barrier again, Louis wasn’t fucking going back. “Don’t get down on yourself, Library. You’re human. Shit’s complicated.” 

“You’re too nice to me,” Harry said. 

“Maybe,” Louis agreed. He kissed Harry on the cheek, and it was deja vu when Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck, rested his forehead against Louis’. All Louis could do was look at him, breathe him in, savor this awful fucking moment. When Harry leaned in to kiss him, Louis was powerless. His lips were soft, and he was still trembling a little, but he kissed Louis like he needed to. Like he was desperate. He tangled his fingers in the back of Louis’ too-long hair, and Louis pulled them flush together. He’d dreamed of this moment every night since they met. He never thought he would get to live it. He didn’t think it would be like this.

Louis pulled away, panting. “I can’t,” he started, not letting go of Harry. “I can’t start something when you’re brokenhearted over another guy.” 

Harry tried to pull away, but Louis held him close. Their relationship was a maze of mixed messages, feelings pulling them in every direction. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

“You gotta stop apologizing, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m not saying never. I’m saying I don’t want to be your rebound. I’m in too deep for that. Don’t do that to me.”

“Okay,” Harry said, voice still shaking. 

“Alright,” Louis said. “Let’s take this slow, alright? Let’s start by fixing you up a bit. You wanna wash your face?” 

Harry nodded, and with a direction now, Louis got him a clean washcloth and an extra toothbrush. Then he left him in the bathroom for twenty minutes as he did whatever he needed to do. Louis pretended not to hear him crying a little more. He texted Oli what was happening, that Harry was over. Maybe Oli could stay with Luke and Calvin? _Lots to unpack there. Yeah, I can stay out of your hair._

When Harry came out of the bathroom, Louis was on the couch, trying to figure out their next move. “You should stay,” is what he settled on. He really didn’t want to let Harry out of his sight. “Do you want to stay?” 

“Please,” Harry said. God, Louis hated every single second he wasn’t smiling. 

“Should I make up the couch or…” he said, hoping Harry didn’t want to sleep on the couch. 

“Can I stay with you?” Ugh, his boy. His sweet Harry. 

“Of course, baby,” he said, standing up finally to pull Harry back to him. 

The physical memory of Harry in his arms was strong considering the few times they’d hugged goodbye after hanging out. That one time they tangled themselves together on the couch. Louis had never believed in soulmates, but something about his body recognized Harry’s. It felt right to be together, even when so much else about the situation still felt wrong. 

Louis double checked the lock on the door and flipped the kitchen and living room lights off. Then he led Harry to his bedroom. 

In his fantasies, he carried Harry in here, tossed him on the bed while Harry giggled, covered him in kisses. In reality, they entered with an abundance of caution. Louis’ room really was nothing to write home about. His sheets were clean though, which he thanked every single deity for. He had a queen-sized bed in one corner of the room, matching Ikea dresser and night stand next to it, a desk against another wall. He slid the door to the closet shut before he could be too embarrassed by it. 

Harry stood there, fiddling with a ring on one of his fingers, waiting for Louis to tell him what to do. 

“You need pajamas?” he asked, and grabbed a pair from his dresser when Harry nodded. Harry hesitance wasn’t because he was shy or bashful. He was cautious, sad, guilty. Louis turned his back so Harry could change in privacy. 

When Louis turned back around, Harry’s jeans and sweater were folded on his desk. And Louis realized this must have been the first time he’d ever seen Harry in just a t-shirt. “What is this?” Louis asked in wonder, closing the gap between them to trace a finger up Harry’s upper arm, lifting the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a huge tattoo of a ship. 

Harry rolled his eyes at himself. “You know it’s the Pequod.”

God, could Louis even love this boy more than he already did? He ran a hand over it, the skin smooth and long-healed. 

“Any other tattoos? God, Library, what secrets don’t I know about you?” Harry finally smiled at the nickname, and Louis brought his hand up to Harry’s cheek, smoothing over his dimple with his thumb. 

“I have a few,” he admitted. 

“I’m shocked,” Louis said honestly. “I am very legitimately shocked.” 

“I’m not just a nerd, you know,” Harry said. 

“Your tattoo is a ship from a very old and nerdy book. You look very badass with it though, so maybe you get some cool points.” And sexy, he didn’t add. Badass and sexy. 

“Any for you?” Harry asked. 

“Not a one,” Louis said. “Though I do love going to the parlor and laughing at whichever of my dumb friends is going to be in pain for an hour or two.” 

“The thing I like about you most is your heart of gold,” Harry said. God, Louis missed this. The teasing. For so long it felt too serious, too tenuous to tease. Louis wanted to kiss him again. Instead, he motioned to his bed. 

“I don’t know how to make this ‘get in my bed’ motion like, non-sexual,” Louis said, feeling like a complete idiot. Harry did him the courtesy of only laughing at him a little. The visual of Harry slipping under his sheets was almost too much for him. Louis felt almost off-the-charts attracted to Harry, but mostly in that moment he was overwhelmed with the emotion of having Harry here with him after so long apart. Louis flipped on his bedside lamp and flipped off the overhead light, then slid in next to him. 

Harry reached out to put a shy hand on Louis’ chest, and Louis nodded. “Yeah, c’mere,” he said, guiding Harry to his chest. Their legs tangled, and Louis got a face full of Harry’s curls, which he had to smooth out of his face. 

“Sorry about that,” Harry said, undeniably nuzzling him. The tenderness of this boy could break his heart right open. 

“Do you know that I love the way your hair smells?” Louis asked. 

“Are we doing a bad job at taking this slow?” Harry asked in response. 

“Ooof, got me there, Library. We’ll start tomorrow.” 

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Harry asked. He tipped his head up to look at Louis. All Louis could do was drop a kiss to his forehead. 

“No, baby,” Louis said. “I’m gonna need some time before that.” 

“Okay,” he said. Instead he nuzzled into Louis’ neck. 

“I’d ask if you want to talk about it, but honestly I don’t think I can,” Louis said. “At least not tonight.” 

“I just want to be right here,” Harry said, and Louis got it. This moment they were in, the two of them together in Louis’ bed late at night, a reprieve from a storm cloud of feelings they were both still very much in, was something to hold onto. 

Their legs were tangled, and for the first time all senior year, Louis had someone beautiful in his bed. For the first time ever Louis had someone he loved like this in his bed. Louis had forgotten what it felt like to fall asleep pressed against another body, their breaths matching up, the way Louis was warm all night. 

And when they woke up, it felt like a dream, Harry in his arms, his back to Louis’ chest, like it had always been that way. 

-

When Oli walked in a little after noon in his clothes from the day before, Louis and Harry were on the couch, a little distance between them. It was a new day, and they were both a little heartbroken, and while Louis never wanted to stop touching him, he also knew that they needed to take the time for Harry to get over Matthew. And for Louis to sort out whether he could even move forward knowing he was Harry’s second choice. 

Harry was clearly in Louis’ clothes though, and neither of them looked alarmed and guilty when Oli walked in. 

“So now you’re doing pancakes without me, huh?” He said easily, walking into his bedroom to put down his stuff. He came out in a different t-shirt and a plate that he’d probably brought a sandwich into his room on the day before. 

“Yours are in the oven, my love,” Louis said. He turned to Harry. “He’s so needy.” 

“Harry, you are going to find it difficult to lock down Mr. Tomlinson here, since I did ask him to marry me first.” 

“I thought Louis didn’t want another boyfriend who doesn’t suck his dick,” Harry said, and Louis almost spat out his juice. He wouldn’t have been able to imagine the Harry he met in January saying that out loud, but now that he knew Harry’s humor, he knew Harry would do basically anything for a joke. And he loved a reference. Even if maybe Oli wouldn’t fully get it. 

Oli just beamed, delighted at Harry saying something borderline raunchy. “Alright, I concede,” he said, hands up to show his palms. “Gotta admit that is something I am unwilling to do.” 

Louis had to use all his remaining willpower not to imagine what Harry was insinuating he _was_ willing to do. 

He turned toward Harry, still sleepy and soft, hair in a messy bun. Louis couldn’t even look at him without his brain releasing a dump truck full of chemicals. Being around Harry was like doing drugs. He’d rather just get to look at Harry than smoke a joint at this point. “Do you want to go for a drive?” 

They both knew they needed to talk, and Louis wanted to do it without roommates interrupting, without being in public, without being in the same geographical location as Matthew. Though, as it was Saturday, Louis suspected he was probably home. Wherever that was. 

Harry nodded, and agreed when Louis asked if he needed to borrow a sweatshirt. He came out of his room with two hoodies in hand after an extensive search to figure out which hoodie he could give to Harry. The cleanest, obviously. It took a little looking. In the interim, Oli had apparently taken it upon himself to have what looked like a tense conversation. 

They both stopped talking when Louis appeared, but Harry nodded, agreeing to something. 

Harry in Louis’ passenger seat, in Louis’ hoodie. Harry wasn’t exactly his, but when Louis reached for his hand, Harry threaded his fingers through Louis’ like it was a given. They were quiet on the drive. Louis had told Harry he was taking him somewhere special to him, but nothing more, so when they finally pulled up alongside the lake at the look-out point Louis favored, Harry gasped and squeezed Louis’ hand tight. 

“The watery part of the world,” he said, and Louis immediately thought of the last time he had taken this drive. 

He put the car in park, took off his seat belt. But he left the car running. It was too cold to go without the heater. Harry slipped out of his seat belt as well, turning to face Louis. It was probably good to have the center console between them, because otherwise Harry would probably be in his lap, distracting. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Louis said honestly. 

“I should start with an apology. Probably...several,” Harry said. “I was not at all prepared for...for you I guess. For us. For what happened. That tsunami of feeling.” 

“I don’t think either of us were.” How on earth could someone prepare for something like that? He reached for one of Harry’s hands again, held it in both of his. There were rings he normally wore that were missing. Louis ghosted fingers over the blank spots, asking. 

Harry nodded. “I took all of his off.”

“Jesus, how many rings did he give you?” Louis asked. A ring was a significant piece of jewelry in Louis’ book. 

“He just knew I collected them,” Harry said. “He made it pretty clear that they weren’t like, _that_ kind of ring. A ring that means something other than ‘you might think this is pretty.’”

“Well I can’t blame him for the instinct to put several rings on you, I guess.” Louis wanted to ask what happened, but he didn’t know how to. He didn’t want to know anything that was going to break his heart open even more. At the same time, he wanted to know everything. He bit the bullet. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

Harry looked away, but let Louis keep his hand. “I’m an idiot,” Harry said. “That’s what happened.” 

“Baby,” Louis coaxed. 

Harry sighed. “I think I signed my heart over to you that night in the diner. That night with the pie, do you remember that?” 

Of course Louis remembered that. That was when it felt like it started. He just nodded. 

“Matthew...it’s like he faded into the background. After we got back together in January, it just didn’t feel good anymore. Our relationship just became a lot of work. I couldn’t think of anyone but you, but Matthew and I had been together for two years. That’s a long time. I was so used to being with him. Used to what life was like with him. I thought I had to fight for that. I was falling for you, but I didn’t know how to not be with him.” 

Every time Harry said something that made his heart swell, he followed it up with something that cracked it wider open. Loving this boy hurt so bad. 

“Why didn’t you break up with him?” Louis asked, his voice coming out emotional and uneven. What he was really asking was _Why didn’t you choose me?_ All he wanted in the whole world was for Harry to choose him. And Harry only did when he was the only choice left. 

“I was scared,” Harry said, just a whisper, a tear falling down his cheek. Louis couldn’t stop himself from wiping it away. “Matthew got so jealous. I was an idiot, falling in love with you so obviously, barely trying to hide it from him. I couldn’t hide it from anyone. People told him about us, around campus, at the bar. I brought you up in conversation too often. Smiled like an idiot when you texted me. He was so mad at me, and I hated that. I put so much effort into making him happy. Maybe I don’t love him anymore, but he’s still a person I care about. I was trying not to hurt him. But that meant what I actually did was hurt both of you.” 

Louis' head swam. _Falling in love with you._ Harry was in love with him? The words swirled around him, the air he breathed. But like always, it was accompanied by smoke, too. _He’s still a person I care about._

Louis still had Harry’s tears on his fingertips when he reached up to wipe away his own. 

“I hate that you still have feelings for him,” Louis said. 

“We were together for two years,” Harry said. “It’s not just a, I don’t know, light switch. I wish it was. It was two years of my life that he was pretty heavily involved in.” 

“Please,” Louis said, begging to stop hearing about how big of a part of Harry’s life Matthew was. 

Harry went quiet. He shifted in his seat to put his feet up on the dash. Winter had pretty much ended, which meant Harry had transitioned to sneakers. Beat up Vans that were terribly endearing. If Oli put his feet up on Louis’ dash, he would have yelled at him. Harry...well Harry could do whatever he wanted. 

“And then?” Louis asked. 

“When you, god, I don’t know what to call it. It felt like getting broken up with. In the library, when you said we shouldn't see each other. It killed me. That’s when I really knew that I was in too deep to get out. It was irreversible, what you did to my heart.” 

“Baby,” Louis breathed. 

“He understood what was happening. That I was heartbroken about a boy who wasn’t him. I don’t know why we lasted so long after that. Because we knew if either of us talked about it, it would be the end, and endings are just...scary. Permanent. We’ve broken up before, and it always felt like it was inevitable that we would get back together. But this felt different and we both knew it.”

“Why last night then?”

“I missed you. I had a hard day. I got some rough feedback on that story I’m working on. Matthew was leaving again to go home, and I barely cared that he was going to be gone. You were who I wanted. He caught me scrolling your Instagram, not for the first time, and that was the straw I guess. He was so, so mad.” 

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Louis asked, his voice urgent. If Matthew had done anything-

“No, no, he just yelled a lot. That was basically how we always fought. He yelled a lot and I tried to make him feel better. Not very effective,” Harry said, laughing a bit at his own expense. “He said that if I wanted to be with you so bad I should. And he was being sarcastic. I don’t think he thought I would actually go. But I put on my shoes to leave because he was right. I did want to be with you that bad. He called me some names and left my dorm before I could.” 

Harry shrugged like it was fine, but Louis could tell he was trying pretty hard to regulate his breathing. 

“What an asshole,” Louis said. 

“I mean, I was kind of the asshole there,” Harry said. 

“Maybe,” Louis said. “But I _like_ you.” 

Harry laughed, and Louis won a glimpse of that dimple. God, it was maybe all that dimple’s fault, if Louis had to trace this back to the beginning. 

“So what now?” Harry asked. 

“I guess...we should get on the same page?” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. 

“Okay, so, I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?” 

“Yes,” Harry said, so quickly and decisively that Louis decided to hold onto it for later. Harry’s certainty, at least now. 

“We need some time,” Louis said. “I want to feel like your first choice. And I can’t do that when you’re still getting over Matthew.” 

“That’s fair,” Harry said.

“What do you need?” Louis said. He figured if he was making demands, it was only fair for Harry to as well. 

“I want to see you,” he said. “I get if I can’t kiss you. But I want to see you.” 

“Yeah?” Louis asked, heart warmed by Harry’s insistence. Harry wanting him felt better than any feeling he’d ever felt before. Maybe it was good that it was tinged with this sadness. Because if the feelings he was feeling were pure and distilled, they might burst his heart completely open. 

“Every day,” Harry said. “I want to see you every day.” 

“Okay, Library. Every day. I miss seeing you every day. Those weeks where we fit time together into any crack in our schedules might be my favorite weeks of college so far.” 

“Falling,” Harry said. When he looked up at Louis, he looked like his Harry again. A little shy, a little sweet, unintentionally sexy. 

“Like feeling the drop of a roller coaster without realizing you were even on one,” Louis agreed. Then he thought back to the apartment, the conversation he saw between Harry and Oli. "What did Oli say to you?"

"I might have gotten the 'if you hurt my beloved daughter I will kill you' speech," he said. He sounded serious as he continued. "I won't though. Hurt you. Anymore."

"Thank you, baby. I'll do my best to return that favor." He kissed Harry's knuckles again, so blindingly happy to be able to do that without a hint of guilt.

“So you took me all the way out to the largest accessible body of water to us, but you didn’t bring your book, huh?” Harry said. His eyes were a little red from crying so much in the last day, and Louis was sure that his were too. 

“You want to read now?” Louis asked. He couldn’t imagine cracking any book right now, let alone one that needed basically his entire brain’s processing power. 

“Lou,” Harry said, “if you haven’t noticed, I always want to read.” 

-

The next week went fast, and Louis’ heart was lighter than it had felt in so long. He and Harry fit each other in between tutoring sessions, classes, Harry’s GSA meetings that Louis still wasn’t interested in. When Louis saw him across the quad on Thursday, Harry ran over to him just to give him a hug before lit. Every night, they slept in their own beds per the agreement of taking it slow. But they texted late into the night, Harry under his covers so he wouldn’t disturb his roommate. On Saturday, Harry came to the bar with them again, and Louis indulged his urge to put his hands all over his boy. Oli informed them that they were annoyingly cute, and that only fueled Louis’ desire to keep his hand on Harry’s waist at all times. 

The no kissing rule persisted. 

The following Tuesday, Amy announced the final project for Special Topics. 

At some point during the semester, Louis had grown fond of the tiny classroom they were in, the other seven students in class, Amy herself. He was even a little fond of Moby Dick, though when he finished the book, he was never reading it again. 

Amy sat in the circle of tables they made at the beginning of every class along with the students. This wasn’t a lecture. There was certainly some ‘I’m not a regular professor, I’m a cool professor’ attitude to the style of teaching she had, and Louis’ business degree hadn’t prepared him for it. 

“I told you at the beginning of the semester that I would choose a final project when I got to know the spirit of this class, of you all as readers and learners. I know that’s unconventional, but I strongly believe that ‘one size fits all’ doesn’t cut it when approaching education at this level. 

“Sometimes the project is a paper, sometimes it’s a presentation, an art project, a performance, you get the picture. This semester, I was lucky enough to be reminded of how lovely this book can be when read aloud and shared.” She looked right at Louis and smiled. At this point, Louis understood that, though Harry wasn’t in one of her classes this semester, he’d taken all of the ones she offered. And while she wasn’t officially his thesis advisor yet, he did think of her as his mentor. Unfortunately that meant that Louis also knew that she knew basically everything that had happened between him and Harry that semester. At least loosely. 

“For our final project, we as a class, including me, will be reading Moby Dick in its entirety for a public audience. We’ll be solo and in pairs, in every possible space on this campus and off. If we’re lucky, we’ll have guest readers as well. The rest of this class period will be figuring out a schedule, and making a plan. This is no short book. We’ll need to start right away.”

Amy had almost a glint of mischief in her eyes, and Louis knew that this was entirely Harry’s fault. 

-

As plans formed, Amy invited anyone who had taken her Special Topics class before to sign up for reading times as well. Louis was shocked that people actually did, but considering the boy he had just given his whole heart to, he really shouldn’t have been. Harry signed up for several shifts. Many with Louis. 

“This is so time consuming,” Louis said, adding his shifts to his Google calendar. They were on the couch in Louis’ apartment, where they found themselves frequently now. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I don’t have to write a paper or anything.” 

“Amy said your paper is how she knew something was wrong between the two of us,” Harry said, a little smile on his face. 

“Oh shut up,” Louis said good naturedly. 

They weren’t even done reading the book all the way through, and class discussion would go up to the last day of the semester. The combination of being addicted to being together and their temporary chastity meant they were actually doing a lot of reading. 

“We’re getting close to the end,” Harry said, but looking at the chunk of pages they still had to go, Louis did not agree with that assessment. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said. He shoved Louis back on the couch, and Louis went easily. Reading was one of his favorite activities now. He stretched out on the couch, stuck a pillow behind his back, and spread his legs. Harry easily settled between them, resting against Louis’ chest. 

Harry had his own copy of the book in his hands, and he moved the bookmark out of the way as he opened it to where they left off. “Chapter 124: The Needle,” he said, and started reading. 

“Next morning the not-yet-subsided sea rolled in long slow billows of mighty bulk, and striving in the Pequod’s gurgling track, pushed her on like giants’ palms outspread. The strong unstaggering breeze abounded so, that sky and air seemed vast outbellying sails; the whole world boomed before the wind. Muffled in the full morning light, the invisible sun was only known by the spread intensity of his place; where his bayonet rays moved on in stacks. Emblazonings, as of crowned Babylonian kings and queens, reigned over everything. The sea was as a crucible of molten gold, that bubblingly leaps with light and heat.”

Okay, sometimes Moby Dick was pretty, Louis was man enough to admit that. More than anything though, Harry’s reading voice was just so smooth and gorgeous. At this point, it was also deeply comforting, calming. Louis slipped one of his arms around Harry’s middle, and snuck a hand up the front of his t-shirt, gently stroking the soft skin of his belly. 

“Mmmm,” Harry hummed, breaking from reading. They might have finished the book already if there wasn’t quite a bit of this nonsense going on every time they tried. “You’re gonna make me fall asleep.” 

“We can nap,” Louis suggested, and not just because he still hadn’t fully fallen in love with Moby Dick. At this point, he didn’t think he was going to, but that was okay with him. He was pretty sure he could consider this a worthwhile experience, even if it kept putting him to sleep. Napping was the no-sleeping-together loophole, and they were taking advantage of it. 

“Yes nap,” Harry said, replacing the bookmark. They had gotten exactly one paragraph in, but that sounded about right to Louis. Harry shifted around and grabbed a blanket and Louis slid down a bit so he didn’t wreck his neck. They settled together, Harry’s head on Louis’ chest. It felt right like that. 

Louis carded his fingers through Harry’s wavy hair, feeling unbelievably lucky in that moment. But he also couldn’t get rid of the thoughts that had been swirling in his head since the day before, when Matthew had texted Harry out of the blue. His texts were conciliatory, as though Harry would run back into his arms. Louis didn’t insist on reading them, but Harry didn’t want them to be a secret. Louis saw not only Matthew’s texts and Harry’s curt responses, but also the fact that he was no longer ‘M <3’ in Harry’s phone. Now he was just MReynolds. Meanwhile Louis knew his name in Harry’s phone had some pretty adorable emojis by it (yes, including the whale). Louis was taking every small victory. 

Instead of sliding his hand up the front of Harry’s shirt, he slid it up the back, skin pleasantly warm, and delightfully more and more familiar. This sort of PG groping seemed like another loophole. Louis wasn’t sure why. He wanted Harry’s full heart before they started being physical with each other, but not touching Harry made him want to die. He figured they both needed something. 

His fingertips dipped lower to tease the elastic of Harry’s underwear, and Harry squirmed. “Baby,” he whined into Louis’ neck. “Please don’t make me horny when you’re not going to do anything about it.” He was right. Louis pulled his hand back from under the shirt and smoothed the cotton back down. He let his hand rest mid-back in an unarguably non-sexual place. He wasn’t trying to tease Harry into madness or anything, but he was addicted to that reaction. The pet name Harry almost never used, the admission of how easy it was for Louis to start getting him worked up, the implication that if Louis dropped the rules, Harry would have no problem _doing something about it._

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Louis said. He meant the apology, but that didn’t mean he would stop any time soon. It appeased something in his heart to hear Harry say things like that when he was feeling insecure about where Harry’s desire lay. He hated that his heart had this stupid speed bump. He hated that he needed the reassurance. But Matthew was hovering just outside the picture, and Louis had the knowledge that he and Harry had this on-again-off-again thing that scared him. 

He kept reminding himself that Harry was here, with him. 

-

The read-aloud started that Friday, each of the students in the class plus Amy each reading one of the first nine chapters. Louis was stupid nervous to sit on a chair in a row in the student union, one mic passed down the line of them. Louis was reading chapter four, the one where Ishmael wakes up in Queequag’s arms. He did not choose it. The way Harry’s eyes twinkled when he heard what he was reading made Louis think he might have had something to do with the chapter assignment. 

Harry made him practice. He knew he wouldn’t practice reading every chapter he had assigned - one could only take so much of this book - but Louis felt like it was an event that could easily display his idiocy beyond the walls of his lit classroom. He’d come to terms with being the dumb one in class. Wasn’t that enough? If he could get through his first chapter smoothly, he was fine absolutely butchering the rest of them. 

Harry came to watch, along with some other English students and faculty, and friends of the kids in the class. The turnout wasn’t impressive or anything, and that helped. His chapter passed in a fever dream, his nerves blacking out the experience probably to protect him. The words didn’t even enter his brain, which was consistent with most of his Moby Dick experience. He wasn’t the smoothest reader, the most musical reader, the most engaging reader. But he got through it. Honestly, the hardest part was probably just sitting through everyone else’s chapters. 

It was undeniable that Louis liked this book much, much better when Harry was reading it. 

The small crowd clapped politely at the end, and Amy reminded them to make sure they were on top of their schedule. She wasn’t going to babysit them about their reading slots. 

Harry wrapped him in a hug, told him he was proud of him. He was so earnest sometimes, it cracked Louis’ heart open. “Wanna go drink some shitty beer at mine and watch basketball with some hooligans?” Louis asked. There was plenty of time left on the game, and then the boys usually discussed it forever after, or just shot the shit. The night was young. 

“Yes please,” Harry said. 

Harry, Louis was learning, was not a big beer drinker, and very much not a fan of the cheap crap that Louis and Oli always had in their fridge, so Louis dug out some blue vodka from the back of the freezer left over from some theme party they’d had once, and mixed it with Sprite. Louis could tell it was not a good drink. He’d need to work on getting some stuff Harry actually liked. 

They futzed around in the kitchen together making snacks, which was sweet and domestic in a way that Louis had never wanted before Harry. Harry had some pretty specific parameters for nachos which Louis’ pantry could not meet, so he had another entry on his grocery list. But they had the insufficient nachos, a frozen pizza they cut into bites, a bag of french fries they threw in the oven. Every time Harry dug in the freezer for more inspiration, he just kept pulling out crap. 

“How are you alive?” he asked genuinely. 

Louis shrugged. 

By the end of their snack making flurry, they were both a couple drinks in, loose and happy, clinging to each other. Harry had him pressed against the counter, hands gripping his waist harder than he probably would have if they were sober. They both knew this was a dangerous game. Louis had Harry’s face cupped gently in his hands and they were breathing heavy with the tension. Louis nosed at his cheek, down his jaw. Harry tipped his head back so Louis could press kisses to the column of his throat. Louis knew he wouldn’t be able to come from that but like, maybe he’d be able to come from that. 

When their eyes locked again, Harry’s looked black with lust, and Louis was sure his weren’t far off. 

The drunk boys in Louis’ apartment also weren’t far off. They reluctantly pulled themselves apart at commercial, when their snacks got claimed from the kitchen. They moved into the living room with the other guys. Maybe they needed babysitters. Louis grabbed the last real spot to sit, an armchair that was maybe a little broken. Everything in Louis’ apartment was maybe a little broken. Harry had turned back to the kitchen to grab his bad drink he kept drinking, and when he got back to the living room, Louis could tell he wasn’t sure where to sit. Calvin had already ended up on the floor. Someone always did. 

“C’mere, baby,” Louis said, patting his lap. It was a stupid, shameless come-on, but goddamn if he didn’t want his boy in his lap. 

It made Harry make his shy face. But he made his way over to Louis, and carefully sat down so he could at least pretend to watch the TV. He wrapped an arm around Louis’ shoulders, and Louis pulled him close by his waist. Louis let himself nuzzle into Harry’s collarbones like that, the weight of him in his lap reassuring. Maybe Louis was a basketball fan after all. 

Harry played with his hair, and let Louis hold his hand, and the closeness was more intoxicating than the beer. Or maybe it was the beer. Regardless, it felt like time and space had collapsed onto that sort-of broken armchair, just the two of them in the whole world. 

It felt like the next time Louis looked up, everyone was putting their shoes back on. 

“You want a ride back to campus, Harry?” Luke asked. Luke had stopped drinking three hours ago. He was good. 

“Probably,” Harry said, his voice sad. They both hated this part of the night. 

“Or you could stay,” Louis said, making an impulsive, not-very-sober decision. 

Harry raised his eyebrows at him. “Can I?”

“Stay, baby.” 

Harry turned back toward Luke. “I’m going to stay, but thank you.” Louis turned his head into Harry’s arm to give him a little nip through his shirt. Such a polite boy. Why was that so sexy? 

They cleaned up their snacks and turned off the TV, let Oli get ready for bed before they shared the sink. Even though Harry’s dorm was on campus and thus much more convenient, they almost always hung out at Louis’ place. Not only because he had a real kitchen, but because they also had the option of privacy. Plus Louis felt bad annoying Harry’s perfectly nice roommate when they could be annoying Oli. 

Louis shut his bedroom door behind them, and they stripped down to boxers and t-shirts to go to bed. Louis was glad that no one was in distress that night, like the other time they spent the night together. This time under the covers, Harry pulled Louis to his chest, and Louis breathed him in. They were quiet, letting the dark velvet of the night settle over them. 

When Harry finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “I wish you could feel what it’s like inside my heart,” he said. “If you could, you would never be jealous of Matthew.” 

“I wish I could feel that too, sweetheart.”

“I’m trying to figure out what I can do to help you see.” 

Louis pressed a kiss to the center of Harry’s chest. “I’ll get there, Library. Be patient with me.”

“Always,” Harry said. He kissed the top of Louis’ head. In Harry’s arms like this, he almost felt what he thought he needed to feel. 

Just not quite. 

-

If Louis thought his life so far that semester was structured around reading Moby Dick, he was in for a harsh wake-up. Fitting his life in around his live reading schedule felt frantic. Finals were coming up, and he had Spanish flash cards shoved into his book to work on while whoever he was reading with read their chapters, however rude that was. 

There were reading sessions where no one came. He and Harry read in Paul’s one afternoon to Paul only, and only technically, as he was prepping the bar for the evening crowd. Harry was writing short stories and poems, and a paper for sociology. He was also working on his thesis proposal for Amy, which stressed him out more than anything else. 

They were in Harry’s dorm one day two weeks before finals. Louis was reading for econ, and Harry was writing a short story, laptop in his lap and feet in Louis' lap. Harry was a distracting writer. He kept looking up from his computer like he was going to ask Louis a question, only to realize the answer himself and start typing again. He whispered his dialogue under his breath. He hummed a lot. Truth be told, Louis didn’t get a lot of quality studying done around Harry. But he just didn’t care at all. He was on track to pass all of his classes, and it’s not like he was going to make the fucking Dean’s List regardless. He was quite content to senior slide because of a very cute boy. 

Harry paused, then messed his hair up in the front so he could finger comb it back into that messy mane that Louis was shocked to find out was so effortless. 

“Fuck,” he said, shutting his laptop. He pulled his feet back from Louis’ lap. “I wrote notes down in some notebook, but not this one. I need to go dig around.” 

He slid his laptop and notebook off his lap onto the couch cushion next to Louis and headed into his bedroom. Louis could hear him moving around books and notebooks, flipping pages, swearing a bit. When he looked over at the couch, Harry’s notebook had flipped open to a well-worn page, one that it had likely been opened to a lot. It looked like a poem. 

He couldn’t help himself. It was there, he had eyes. It was dated February, when shit was starting to get real - and complicated - with them. This...this was a love poem. _Wherever you go, you bring me home. We don’t know where we’re going, but we know where we belong._ Louis really, really wanted this poem to not be about Matthew. 

“Only took like six notebooks-” Harry started, coming out of his room. He spotted Louis looking at the notebook he’d left behind. He looked a little scared. “Oh.” 

“It just...fell open to this page,” Louis said. “It was just lying open, next to me.” 

Then Harry’s face softened. “I should be kind of embarrassed about how sappy that shit is. Which one?” He came to sit down next to Louis, moving his laptop out of the way. 

“Sweet Creature,” Louis read. Harry leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. 

“The sweetest,” he said into Louis’ ear. 

“This is about…” Louis said, scared to ask. It seemed at this point like Harry was being pretty clear. But he still needed to hear it. 

“It’s about you,” Harry said. He reached over to flip through his notebook. Poem after poem after poem. Way more than four. “They’re all about you.”

“Seriously?” Louis asked, a little breathless. 

Harry’s laugh was soft and fond. “Lou, I’m a poet and I’m in love with you. Pages of embarrassing love poems come with the territory.” 

_I’m in love with you_. He’d never told Louis that. He’d talked about falling, but he’d never talked about _being_ in love. Louis thought it had been too soon to clarify. 

When Louis looked up at Harry finally, his hair was wild and beautiful. He looked a little tired from all his finals prep, but he had such a genuinely happy smile on his face, and in that moment, whatever Louis had been waiting for, whatever clarity of feeling, whatever certainty of Harry’s intentions he needed, he got. 

His fingertips found Harry’s jaw, and he slowly guided their mouths together, the kiss sweeter than he could have imagined. It was chaste, but not brief, and when he pulled away, the look on Harry’s face was unfathomable. 

“I’m in love with you too,” Louis said simply. 

“Really?” Harry asked, and the surprise with which he asked it made Louis sad. He wanted Harry to just know. He wanted to have been that obvious about it. But that wasn’t how feelings worked. Sometimes you just had to say shit out loud. 

“Really, really, really,” Louis said. “I love you.” 

“Oh my god,” Harry said, the elation Louis was feeling visible on his face too. “Oh my god,” he said again, and scrambled into Louis’ lap, straddling him, pulling him into another kiss. 

Louis hauled him closer by his waist, let Harry control the kiss. Louis tipped his head back, cradled between Harry’s hands, and lost himself to the feeling of Harry’s mouth. He’d dreamt of this, imagined this, fantasized about it. He had one desperate, sad, brokenhearted kiss to remember, but while that was rushed and harsh, this was patient and kind. His hands explored up the back of Harry’s shirt, then down to give his ass a squeeze. Harry squaked, surprised. Then let the laughter of the moment take over. 

Harry lost his balance and tipped to the side, and Louis took his opportunity as Harry straightened out on the couch, flat on his back. He crawled up Harry’s body to hover over him. “Who on earth wears shirts this unbuttoned?” Louis asked, dropping kisses up Harry’s bare chest. He’d been trying to keep his eyes to himself all afternoon, but Harry’s smooth gorgeous chest was impossible to not sneak peeks of.

“Someone trying to seduce the boy they love, obviously,” Harry said. Louis never wanted him to stop saying that. He would never get sick of it. 

He licked kisses up Harry’s neck, then hovered above him so he could look him in the eyes. “Say it again.” 

“I love you,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around Louis. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

“I love you,” Louis said back. “I’m in love with you.” 

By now, Harry’s mouth was kiss-soft, lips plush against Louis’. He never wanted to not be kissing Harry. Why on earth had he waited so long for something that was so good? But Louis knew why. It was this good because he was sure. It was this good because he trusted Harry. 

Louis abstractly knew that time was passing, but all he could feel was that moment, tangled together with the boy he loved on a couch on the campus of a college he’d spent four pretty good years at. Underneath him, Harry’s body was warm, and every time Louis pulled away to breathe, Harry pulled him right back. 

Finally, Louis noticed the sun had gone down. “Jesus, how long have we been making out?” Louis asked, laughing. His lips buzzed with overuse. He was pretty sure the last time making out like this hadn’t immediately led to sex was probably high school. 

“I think I blacked out,” Harry joked. Louis carefully stood up from the couch, then helped Harry stand up too. It was impossible to not pull him into another kiss. 

“Might have to button this up now,” Louis said, finger tugging on the V of Harry’s mostly unbuttoned shirt. Harry’s chest was now proudly sporting more than one lovebite. 

Harry buttoned one single button and looked up at Louis through his eyelashes. He bit his lip. Fuck, he was so sexy. 

“How am I ever supposed to get anything done ever again?” Louis wondered out loud. 

“Should we just abandon society and live in the woods?” Harry asked. 

Louis rolled his eyes at him. “Honestly, I’d consider it,” he relented. “You still have a short story to finish.” Harry nodded. 

“I’m maybe halfway done.” 

“I still have homework, too.” 

“If you suggest we split up to get homework done, I do not agree,” Harry said immediately. 

“I was going to say, grab some pajamas and we can go back to my place.”

Harry grabbed some pajamas. 

Despite their best intentions, they were not much more successful at Louis’ place. They could barely keep their hands off each other for long enough to make dinner, and kept taking breaks while they were studying to kiss. Oli was clearly trying to stay out of their hair, but they weren’t making it easy on him. 

Finally Harry groaned. “I”m getting nowhere. I need like, forty minutes where I do not have such close access to your mouth,” he said. Louis laughed, then pulled him into one more kiss. 

“Go write at my desk in my room,” he said. “I’ll stay out here. There will be a door between our lips.” 

“Sad but necessary,” Harry said. He stood up from the couch and dropped a final kiss to Louis’ lips before disappearing with his laptop into Louis’ room. 

With Harry out of eyesight, he finished his econ reading in fifteen minutes. He hoped Harry was having as much success. 

Oli crept out of his own bedroom at the sound of the silence. “Did Harry leave?” he asked, looking around for him. 

“Nah, he’s writing in my room. It’s hard to work when we’re next to each other.” 

“Yeah,” Oli said, raising an eyebrow. “I saw that.” 

Louis covered his face with his hands. “Sorry, man.” 

Oli sat down next to him on the couch. “I’m happy for you, dude. This is great. This means...everything is good, right?” 

Louis couldn’t even hold it in. “He told me he loves me.” He knew his face was ninety percent smile. He was fine with that. 

“Thank fuck,” Oli said. 

“You gonna tell your secret group chat?” Louis asked. 

“Yes,” Oli said, shamelessly. “You gonna stop needing us to have a secret group chat about you?” 

“Wish I could promise you that,” Louis said. Oli laughed. 

-

Hell Week, what they affectionately called the week before finals week, was upon them. Louis was getting pretty good at reading Moby Dick as quickly as possible in order to get done with his reading shifts in a reasonable amount of time. They were nearing the end of the book as a class, but Louis still hadn’t finished it. What was the point of reading it on his own now, when he would have to read it aloud later anyway? 

That Monday, his reading shift was in the library with Mallory, his classmate who had been pretty forgiving and encouraging of Louis in class. Not everyone was. As they finished up, and the three people who had come to see them read left, Mallory turned to him. 

“Harry was your tutor this semester, right?” she asked, and Louis couldn’t help his stupid smile. The English majors all seemed to know each other through classes, the paper, tutoring, the lit magazine, readings they seemed to have pretty frequently, working at the library, et cetera. It was extensive, and Harry was involved in as much as he could be. 

“Yeah,” Louis said. “He’s absolutely the reason I’m passing.” 

“And...sorry if this is overstepping but you’re seeing him, right? I’ve seen you two on campus, and if you’re not dating…”

Louis understood what she meant. He knew they were in the fairly gross stage of their relationship. “Yeah, he’s my boy.” Even Louis could hear the pride in his own voice. 

“Maybe don’t tell Harry this,” she said, “but you’re an upgrade from his last boyfriend.” 

“Mallory,” Louis said, opening one of the library’s main doors and holding it open for her, “you’ve always been my favorite classmate.” 

They split ways as she headed for the dorms and Louis headed for the student union. Harry had a meeting for his sociology group project in one of the break-out rooms upstairs by the cafeteria. Louis ordered him a hot chocolate from the cafe as he waited for his meeting to get out.

A few minutes after eight, the small number of people in Harry’s group started trailing down the main stairs. Louis’ breath caught at the sight of Harry. His hair was in a bun, forehead pinched in focus as he discussed something with one of his classmates. He had a pen in his hand, of course, and Louis could see the chipped remnants of nail polish he hadn’t had time to touch up. Louis had to consider the fact that Harry was very out of his league. 

And then Harry turned, and his eyes caught Louis’, and he beamed. Harry may be out of his league, but Harry loved him. He wasn’t going to keep splitting hairs about it. 

“Feel okay about your project?” Louis asked, presenting Harry with the hot chocolate. He hadn’t been waiting long. The drink was still warm. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be good I think.” He took the cup from Louis. “This is for me?” 

“Everything is for you, baby,” Louis said, leaning in to kiss Harry. Harry rolled his eyes at him, but Louis also got that shy smile from him. 

They stopped briefly at Harry’s dorm so he could switch out which books he needed for the rest of the evening, and grab a change of clothes. Oli texted to say he was at Luke and Calvin’s, and he didn’t see himself sobering up enough to get home that night. He and Harry had the whole apartment to themselves. 

Louis had barely closed the door behind them before Harry had pressed him up against it, kissed him in the filthy way they both had the good sense to not do in public. 

“I feel like...I am done studying for the night,” Harry said. He had his hands on Louis’ chest, their hips pressed together. Louis held him at his waist. 

“What homework?” Louis joked, leaning back into the kiss. They clumsily made their way through the kitchen and into the living room, but Harry paused when Louis started moving purposefully toward the couch. 

“What if we,” Harry started, bashful blush on his cheeks. Louis reached back out for his hand, ran a thumb over Harry’s knuckles encouragingly. “Um, what if we went to your bedroom?”

Louis pulled Harry close to him, cupped a cheek in his hand. “Sweet Library. Are you trying to get into my pants?” 

That made Harry laugh. Louis could feel his body relax a little. “Can you blame me?” 

Louis kissed him, then nudged him gently back toward his room. He wasn’t about to pretend he wasn’t interested in the same thing. They were alone, but Louis shut his door anyway. He didn’t want to share Harry with even the emptiness of his apartment. 

The tension in the air shifted with intention. What had been the same makeouts they were used to and comfortable with was now charged with the unknown. Louis couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a little nervous. He wanted every second to be perfect for Harry always. When he reached back out for Harry’s body, Harry was trembling. 

“Baby,” Louis whispered, comfortingly. He ran his hands up and down Harry’s back slowly, watched the expression on Harry’s face. He kissed from Harry’s jaw up to his temple, soft and slow. “What are you comfortable with?” 

“Um, not all the way, yet,” he said, and Louis pressed the softest, softest kiss to his lips. 

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” 

“For the record,” Harry said, “I’m not nervous because I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous because I’ve never done it with you.”

“I’m not judging you. I’m nervous too,” Louis said. He slid his hands down Harry’s waist to settle on his hips for a moment, before finding the hem of his shirt. “Can I take this off?”

Harry nodded and lifted his arms up, and Louis pulled his shirt up and over his head. He dropped the shirt to the floor and ran fingers up Harry’s chest. He had initials tattooed on his shoulders that Louis hadn’t seen before. He would ask about them later. 

Harry only gave him a moment to look before he started in on Louis’ clothes, and before Louis knew it, they were in their underwear and Harry was pushing him back toward the bed. Their nervousness wasn’t completely gone, but it got better when Louis had gotten stuck in his pants and they had a moment to giggle at something. Louis was perfectly fine being the one getting laughed at if it made Harry more comfortable. 

Louis went where Harry put him, on his back in the center of the bed. Harry swung a leg over him to straddle Louis’ hips finally finding his confidence, and Louis thought he might die right then and there. “I have never in my life seen anyone as beautiful as you,” Louis said, absolutely melting at the blush on Harry’s cheeks. The dual confidence and bashfulness was overwhelming. 

“C’mere,” Louis said, tugging one of Harry’s hands. Harry curled down toward him, arms bracketing Louis’ head. Their kiss was so familiar, but Harry’s bare skin was new and intoxicating. Louis wanted to touch every inch of it, delighted in every little shiver he got out of Harry, every little moan that was pressed against his mouth. When his hands finally found the elastic of Harry’s little black underwear, he slid just the tips of his fingers under. “Can I?” 

Harry was breathing hard so his laugh came out breathless and uneven. “Please,” he breathed, and Louis slipped his hand under the elastic to grab his ass. 

“Jesus,” Louis said, as his grip on Harry’s ass shifted them together a little differently, erections lining up. Harry gasped, then shifted his hips experimentally. They both groaned, the promise of relieving the tension they’d had between them since January finally feeling so close. Harry found a slow grind, and just the way his body was moving on top of Louis’ was almost enough to short out Louis’ brain. 

“Fuck, baby, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he said, reluctantly gripping Harry’s hips to still him. 

“Is that not the goal?” Harry asked, breathless and red-lipped, hair falling out of his bun. 

“I kinda want this to last more than five minutes,” Louis laughed. 

“A strong argument,” Harry said. 

“Here, let’s get these off,” Louis said, tugging at Harry’s underwear. Harry had to shift off of Louis and onto his back for Louis to be successful at removing them. Louis hoped eventually he’d be smooth and cool about underwear removal. Today was not that day. He shoved his own underwear down and off while he was at it, not wanting to get tangled like that later on. 

And there was his boy, laying in Louis’ tangled sheets, skin so pale against the navy of the fabric beneath him, naked and hard and gorgeous. Louis grabbed the lube from his side table and slid back to Harry. Having his hands and lips on him felt like an emergency. Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck, and Louis quickly squeezed some lube into his hand. “Can I touch you?” he asked, feeling like at this point the answer was probably yes, but there was really no reason not to make sure. 

Harry nodded, and Louis reached down between them to wrap his hand around Harry’s cock. He was watching Harry’s face carefully, so he saw the way Harry’s mouth dropped open, heard the little moan that came out of his mouth. “Lou...Louis,” Harry said, arms tightening around Louis’ neck, his hips rocking into Louis’ grip as he worked him up and down. “That feels so good.” 

Louis was a big fan of nicknames and pet names. He could hardly stop himself from calling Harry something sweet when his heart felt so sweet about him. But he couldn’t pretend like hearing his own name on Harry’s tongue in a moment like this didn’t make him absolutely soar. 

“Good, baby,” he said, tucking his face into Harry’s neck to press kisses to his most sensitive spots. When he felt Harry start to tremble again, he pulled back so he could look at his boy. “Close?” he asked, and Harry nodded tiny short nods, like his brain could barely complete the thought. Louis tightened his grip and sped up. Harry’s grip on his shoulders tightened when he came, thick and warm all over his stomach and Louis’ hand. 

“Fuck,” Harry groaned, rolling onto his back. His arms fell above his head, and he was messy and spent and on display. Louis tried desperately to commit this moment to memory. He took a moment to soak him in before reaching off the bed for a discarded t-shirt. He wiped off his hand, and then carefully did his best to clean Harry up, at least for the time being. 

“Kiss,” Harry demanded, and Louis obliged, falling right back into Harry’s arms. Louis had been hard for so long. He’d fantasized about this moment for so long. He wanted Harry to touch him so bad he could barely stand it. But also, if Harry just wanted to kiss, that’s all Louis wanted too. 

When Harry caught his breath, he pushed Louis onto his back again. Then he moved down the bed to settle between Louis’ legs. “Baby, you don’t have to-” he started, reaching out to trace the curve of Harry’s jaw. 

“I want to,” Harry said. “You deserve a boyfriend who sucks your dick.” 

Louis laughed. “Jesus I can’t believe I said that in front of you. I was trying so hard to get your attention.” 

“It worked,” Harry said. He shifted his attention back to Louis’ dick and licked his lips. Harry hadn’t even gotten his mouth on him yet and it was already the sexiest blow job he’d ever gotten. Harry pushed a strand of his hair out of his face and kissed up Louis’ inner thigh. He nuzzled into the crease of his leg. 

“Baby,” Louis begged, too keyed up to be concerned about his dignity. 

“Okay, okay,” Harry said, finally taking Louis into his mouth. The sight of his dick disappearing between Harry’s lips was scorching. Louis reached down to cup Harry’s cheek, just long enough to get Harry to flick his eyes up to Louis. He looked so gorgeous. Happy. Louis closed his eyes and slid his hand to rest gently in Harry’s hair, feeling the motion of what Harry was doing. He had to look away to last for any amount of time. 

Louis didn’t think he’d need to worry about having a boyfriend who didn’t like to suck dick. Harry had...technique. His mouth was so wet, tongue so skilled, the suction just perfect. He kept moaning like he was the one getting his dick sucked. 

Louis was getting close. He warned Harry, then since he knew he was about to come anyway, he finally let himself really drink in the full magnificence of what was happening between his legs. Harry was gloriously naked, the sweet curve of his ass on display. He could see the muscles in his shoulders work as he bobbed up and down. When he let himself look at Harry’s face, his eyes were closed with focus. God, Louis loved him so much. 

Harry didn’t pull off when he came. He swallowed, then carefully licked up what he missed, using a thumb to catch a drip on his bottom lip. 

“Indecent,” Louis said, still breathing hard. He motioned for Harry to come lay next to him again. 

“I never want you to think I don’t like to suck dick. I could be down there for hours if you let me,” Harry said, tone serious and determined. 

“Are you trying to get me hard again? Jesus,” Louis said. Not that he was complaining. 

“Maybe,” Harry said. He had a bit of a mischievous glint in his eye that Louis was very excited to explore the depths of. 

They basked for a while, enjoying the feeling of their bare skin together without the frantic desperation of being distractingly horny. Louis was trying to figure out a way to never stop touching Harry’s ass. 

“Okay I know I said I was done studying for the night,” Harry said, “but I do really need to work on my short story.” 

Louis laughed as Harry slipped reluctantly out of bed. “Can you do it naked?” 

Harry paused, underwear in hand, to think about it. “No. I can do it in my underwear though.” 

“Mmmm relationships are about compromise,” Louis said. He pulled the sheet up to his waist, sad when Harry disappeared from his sight for long enough to get his laptop. He sat at Louis’s desk, word doc already up when he opened the lid of his computer. 

“You’re not going to write in bed?” Louis asked. 

“I think you might understand why I would find that difficult,” Harry said, smile on his face. His dimple was an absolute crater in his cheek. It was so fucking cute. 

“I regret falling for a boy with such a commitment to academics.” 

Harry didn’t even look away from his computer screen to reply. “You know who you fell for.” 

Louis took in the curve of Harry’s back as he hunched over the desk, the love bite on his neck, the glow of the computer screen on his face. Beautiful. “Yeah, Library. I do.” 

-

Louis saw his future, and it was bleak. His boyfriend had so many books and Louis had naively agreed to help him move all of them. 

Was it just down the hall into the dorm he’d be in over summer term? ...yes. However, Harry didn’t just have books on his bookcase. They were in cupboards, they were stacked under his desk, they were in his drawers with his clothes. Louis found some Flannery O’Connor in the bathroom drawer with his floss. How?

Was he doomed for this to be the rest of his life? He smiled at the thought. 

He flopped on his back on Harry’s freshly made little dorm bed, smiled as Harry clumsily climbed into bed with him. Louis had never been this exhausted at the end of a semester before. But then again, Louis had never spent his semester in a soap opera where he had to read a really fucking long book basically twice. 

“Should we go to Milwaukee to celebrate?” Louis said. Amy had let Harry know she had accepted his thesis proposal, and would be happy to be his mentor. Proud, she actually said. Proud to be his mentor. Harry had spent the day smiling his face off, even through moving and cleaning his old dorm. 

“Mmmm,” Harry hummed into Louis’ neck. “We could stay in…”

“That sounds promising,” Louis said. There was really no excuse for either of them to be clothed right now in Louis’ mind, come to think of it. 

“...and read.” Louis could feel Harry’s smile against his skin. He tickled Harry’s sides and held him tight as he squirmed. 

“I’m never reading again,” Louis said. He was kidding. Mostly. If Harry wanted to read him a book, he’d be happy to listen. 

Harry reached over him to his side table where both of their copies of Moby Dick sat in a stack. Louis had given Harry his copy because he knew how precious Harry was about books. Harry had cried. He was the sweetest boy. Harry grabbed his own copy, propped himself up on his elbow and let his broken, broken book fall open. 

Louis looked at it. He was too exhausted to be upset by this book anymore. Plus, it’s not like it would ever fully leave his life. His boy had the fucking ship tattooed on him after all. “The Lee Shore,” Louis said, running a fingertip over the title. “Why does it always fall open here?” 

Harry bit his lip, thinking. “Moby Dick is so many things. It’s the Great American Novel. It’s an allegory for...basically everything. It’s a weird whale adventure story. It’s a hot mess.”

“Good lord, tell me about it,” Louis complained. Harry put his hand on Louis' chest, a request for him to shut up. Louis did. 

“It’s also so beautiful. It has these lovely, poignant moments that just turn over in my brain. The Lee Shore is basically about the danger of having your ship in port on a lee shore - a shore the wind is blowing toward. The wind can cause hull damage if it blows your ship into shore, and then you’re fucked. A ship wasn’t made to be safe in port. Even in a dangerous storm, a ship is made to be at sea.” 

“The fact that listening to you talk about this book is so fucking sexy to me really explains a lot about our lives currently,” Louis said, pulling Harry into a kiss. 

“Better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety!” Harry quoted, eyed locked on Louis’, pulling the words easily from his memory. 

“So you’re dead either way,” Louis said. 

“You’re dead either way,” Harry confirmed. “But you might as well die doing what you were made to do. You might as well die on an adventure. Don’t choose safety. Choose what your heart wants even if it scares you.” 

Louis was so, so glad they chose adventure. 

**Author's Note:**

> More details about Harry's boyfriend: Harry and Louis fall in love while Harry is still with his boyfriend. H&L kind of get right up to the line of cheating without fully crossing it (as they're defining it). They don't kiss or do anything physical while Harry has a boyfriend. You never see his boyfriend closer than Louis spotting him across the quad. You never see the boyfriend and Harry kiss. This is a story about Harry and Louis falling in love, not about Harry and his boyfriend. 
> 
> Here is my [Tumblr post](https://sweettartine.tumblr.com/post/640415768169824256/that-howling-infinite-by-sweettartine-27k-i) if you'd like to reblog it. Thank you!
> 
> If you want the same copy of Moby Dick that H&L read, it's [the Norton Critical Edition](https://www.betterworldbooks.com/product/detail/Moby-Dick-Third-Edition-Norton-Critical-Editions-9780393285000?shipto=US&curcode=USD&gclid=CjwKCAiAuoqABhAsEiwAdSkVVKeWhT7yPp-D809oj5m6VQH5h2FD_YrGRmk0QwyWIBTvLQEP1G22wRoC5OoQAvD_BwE). 
> 
> And finally - if you're Moby Dick curious, give [The Lee Shore](https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/42/moby-dick/671/chapter-23-the-lee-shore/) a shot! It's lovely, and it literally self-describes as a "six-inch chapter." Even Louis could get through this one.


End file.
